'M 


iiif 


li 


In 

Chimney 
Comers 

Irish  Folk-Tale^ 


S  MACMAmJS 


In  Chimney  Corners 


IN    CHIMNEY   CORNERS 


MERRY   TALES    OF 
IRISH   FOLK   LORE 

BY 

SEUMAS    MacMANUS 


Garden  City      New  York 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

191  s 


PSYCH. 
LIBRARY 


G 


Copyright,  1899,  by 

DOUBLEDAY  &  McClURE 

Copyright,  1908,  by 
DouBLEDAY,  Page  &  Company 


To 

Our  Brave  Boys  and  Girls 
who  have  fared  forth  from  their  homes ^ 
travelling  away  and  away,  far  further  than  I  could 
tell  you,  and  twice  further  than  you  could 
tell  me,  into  the  Strange  Land  Be- 
yond^ to  push  their  fortune, 
THIS  BOOK 


3722o;"> 


OUR  FOLK-TALES 


In  those  days  Ireland  had  many  Kings  and 
Queens,  and  was  populated  by  good  people. 
It  was  not  bounded  by  the  sea;  all  around  it 
was  a  strange  country  in  which,  at  rare  inter- 
vals, arose  many-windowed  castles  inhabited 
by  Giants,  Kings,  Queens,  or  beautiful  Prin- 
cesses. On  occasions,  others  are  acknowl- 
edged; as,  when  the  boy  from  Ireland  fought 
the  dragon,  or  when  his  marriage  with  the 
Princess  was  celebrated.  The  mysterious  pop- 
ulation which  turned  up  at  these  times  was  not 
whilst  he  had  fared  forward  on  his  long  and 
lonely  journey,  with,  at  most,  a  single  habita- 
tion punctuating  each  day's  progress.  Whence, 
then,  this  population  came,  and  whither  it  went, 
I  know  not;  I  never  knew;  for,  no  further  ac- 
count is  taken  of  it. 

Sometimes  the  young  men  of  Erin  sought 
adventure  in  their  own  land,  where  were  both 


X  Our  Folk-Tales 

in  plenty.  But  oftener  they  went  away  into 
the  land  of  mystery,  the  Country  Beyond. 
They  were  fearless,  these  boys,  and  earned  the 
reward.  Some  day,  long  after  his  kindred  had 
concluded  that  he  was  killed  or  enchanted,  the 
adventurer,  maybe,  emerged  again  from  the 
Mysterious  Land,  with  fortune  and  a  beautiful 
damsel,  and  with  such  tales  of  wonder  as  set  off 
all  the  other  strapping  young  fellows  who  had 
not  yet  asked  their  mother's  blessing  and  gone 
forth. 

Even  down  to  the  days  of  my  childhood  the 
Country  Beyond  still  was.  Every  morning  I 
saw  the  circle  of  hills  that  shut  it  out.  On 
many,  many,  bleak  and  eerie  days,  when  I, 
herding  on  our  hill,  crouched  and  hugged  my- 
self in  the  cosy  shelter  of  a  lone  thorn,  I 
watched  and  watched  the  rim  of  those  hills,  and 
was  filled  with  wonder,  and  with  longing  for 
the  day  when  I  should  be  able  to  climb  them, 
and  drop  into  the  Land  of  Adventure.  And  once 
in  those  days,  I  remember — and  the  strange 
sensation  is  still  with  me — how,  having  gone  a 
far  journey  to  the  Cdrmullion  uplands  after  a 


Our  Folk  Tales  xi 

strayed  wether,  I  saw  the  tops  of  the  hills  of  the 
Country  Beyond. 

The  day  came  when  I  did  climb,  and  climb, 
to  the  rim,  and  look  over.  And  lo !  the  Land  of 
Mystery  had  vanished.  I  can  feel  the  ache  at 
my  heart  even  yet.  That  the  land  I  sought 
had  been  there  when  I  was  young  and  inno- 
cent, I  know.  But  I  had  not  realised  that, 
year  by  year,  it  was  melting  into  the  unseen; 
till  with  painful  suddenness  I  discovered  it  was 
no  more. 

With  us,  new  folk-tales  are  being  enacted 
every  day.  Our  Irish  boys  still  rise  up  and  go 
away  to  a  far  land  and  strange  to  push  their 
fortune.  There  are  fiery  dragons  in  that  land, 
too,  and  fell  giants,  with  whom  our  poor  boys 
struggle  sore.  There  cannot  be  any  princesses 
there,  though ;  or,  the  cailins  at  home  are  better 
than  the  princesses  abroad ;  for,  when  our  boys 
come  back  with  the  bags  of  gold — just  as  in 
the  stories — they  have  not  damsels  also.  Jamie 
Ruadh  MacLaughlin  of  Meenacalliay  came 
back,  the  pockets  of  his  shop-clothes  filled  with 
the  gold,  and  married  Rossha  MacDiarmuid 
of  the  Alt  Beag;  Myles  Grifiin  of  the  HaugH, 


xii  Our  Folk  Tales 

as  grand  as  a  king,"  and  every  bit  as  proud, 
came,  and  took  handsome  Grania  MacGroarty. 
I  could  name  a  long  list  of  others  who  did  like- 
wise. 

In  the  old  folk-tales  only  our  boys  went  off. 
But  now  our  poor  girls,  too,  must  go.  Their 
mothers  cry ;  and  when  we  are  on  our  knees  at 
night,  saying  the  Rosary,  we  always  pray  for 
the  girls  and  boys  who  are  in  the  strange  land. 

Some  of  them  come  back  again. 

Some  of  them  do  not  find  their  fortune. 
They  never  come.  Their  mothers  in  Ireland 
still  cry.  The  door  is  open  and  the  hearth 
bright.  If  this  book  happen  into  the  hands  of 
any  of  these  their  tears  will  moisten  its  mer- 
riest page;  for,  .  .  .  they  shall  remem- 
ber    .     .     .     They  shall  remember. 

Mary  Mother,  smooth  their  rugged  road, 
strengthen  their  failing  hearts,  and  soften  to 
them  the  heart  of  the  stranger. 

Seumas  MacManus. 


CONTENTS 


P1.01 

OUR  FOLK  TALES    —     -         -         -         -         -         -         -     ix 

BILLY  BEG  AND  THE  BULL     ------        I 

MURROGHOO-MORE  AND  MURROGHOO-BEG    -         -  -     23 

THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  GOLDEN  MINES      -  -  -  -     35 

THE  widow's  DAUGHTER       ------     55 

SHAN  BAN  AND  NED  FLYNN  -----     67 

WHEN  NEIL  A-MUGHAN  WAS  TUK  -  -  -  -     83 

THE  BLACK  BULL  OF  THE  CASTLE  OF  BLOOD  -         -  IDS 

THE  OLD  HAG  OF  THE  FOREST       -  -  -  -  -   12$ 

RORY  THE  ROBBER         -------  I47 

MYLES  MCGARRY  AND  DONAL  MOGARRY  -         -  -  157 

NANNY  AND  CONN  -------  187 

THE  APPRENTICE  THIEF         ------  20$ 

MANIS  THE  BESOM  MAN  -  -  -  -  -  -  225 

JACK  AND  THE  KING  WHO  WAS  A  GENTLEMAN        -         -  24I 
THE  GIANT  OF  THE  BAND  BEGGAR'S  HALL     -         -         -  257 


Billy  Beg  and  the  Bull 


BILLY  BEG  AND  THE  BULL 


Once  on  a  time  when  pigs  was  swine,  there 
was  a  King  and  a  Queen,  and  they  had  one  son, 
Billy,  and  the  Queen  gave  Billy  a  bull  that  he 
was  very  fond  of,  and  it  was  just  as  fond  of 
him.  After  some  time  the  Queen  died,  and  she 
put  it  as  her  last  request  on  the  King  that  he 
would  never  part  Billy  and  the  bull,  and  the 
King  promised  that,  come  what  might,  come 
what  may,  he  would  not.  After  the  Queen  died 
the  King  married  again,  and  the  new  Queen 
didn't  take  to  Billy  Beg,  and  no  more  did 
she  like  the  bull,  seeing  himself  and  Billy  so 
thick.  But  she  couldn't  get  the  King  on  no 
account  to  part  Billy  and  the  bull,  so  she  con- 
sulted with  a  hen-wife  what  they  could  do  as 
regards  separating  Billy  and  the  bull.  ''What 
will  you  give  me,"  says  the  hen-wife,  "and 
I'll  very  soon  part  them?"  "Whatever  you 
%sk,"  says  the  Queen.  "Well  and  good  then," 
I 


2  In  Chimney  Corners 

says  the  hen-wife,  "you  are  to  take  to  your  bed, 
making  pretend  that  you  are  bad  with  a  com- 
plaint, and  ril  do  the  rest  of  it."  And,  well 
and  good,  to  her  bed  she  took,  and  none  of  the 
doctors  could  do  anything  for  her,  or  make  out 
what  was  her  complaint.  So  the  Queen  axed 
for  the  hen-wife  to  be  sent  for.  And  sent  for 
she  was,  and  when  she  came  in  and  examined 
the  Queen,  she  said  there  was  one  thing,  and 
only  one,  could  cure  her.  The  King  asked 
what  was  that,  and  the  hen-wife  said  it  was 
three  mouthfuls  of  the  blood  of  Billy  Beg's 
bull.  But  the  King  wouldn't  on  no  account 
hear  of  this,  and  the  next  day  the  Queen  was 
worse,  and  the  third  day  she  was  worse  still, 
and  told  the  King  she  was  dying,  and  he'd 
have  her  death  on  his  head.  So,  sooner  nor  this, 
the  King  had  to  consent  to  Billy  Beg's  bull  be- 
ing killed.  When  Billy  heard  this  he  got  very 
down  in  the  heart  entirely,  and  he  went  doith- 
erin'  about,  and  the  bull  saw  him,  and  asked  him 
what  was  wrong  with  him  that  he  was  so 
mournful,  so  Billy  told  the  bull  what  w^as 
wrong  with  him,  and  the  bull  told  him  to  never 
n:ird  but  keep  up  his  heart,  the  Queen  would 


Billy  Beg  and  the  Bull  3 

never  taste  a  drop  of  his  blood.  The  next 
day  then  the  bull  was  to  be  killed,  and  the 
Queen  got  up  and  went  out  to  have  the  delight 
of  seeing  his  death.  When  the  bull  was  led  up 
to  be  killed,  says  he  to  Billy,  ''J^^^P  ^P  on  my 
back  till  we  see  what  kind  of  a  horseman  you 
are."  Up  Billy  jumped  on  his  back,  and  with 
that  the  bull  leapt  nine  mile  high,  nine 
mile  deep  and  nine  mile  broad,  and  came 
down  with  Billy  sticking  between  his 
horns.  Hundreds  were  looking  on  dazed  at 
the  sight,  and  through  them  the  bull  rushed, 
and  over  the  top  of  the  Queen,  killing  her  dead, 
and  away  he  galloped  where  you  wouldn't 
know  day  by  night,  or  night  by  day,  over  high 
hills,  low  hills,  sheep-walks,  and  bullock-traces, 
the  Cove  of  Cork,  and  old  Tom  Fox  with  his 
bugle  horn.  When  at  last  they  stopped,  "now 
then,"  says  the  bull  to  Billy,  "you  and  I 
must  undergo  great  scenery,  Billy.  Put  your 
hand,"  says  the  bull,  "  in  my  left  ear,  and  you'll 
get  a  napkin,  that,  when  you  spread  it  out,  will 
be  covered  with  eating  and  drinking  of  all 
sorts,  fit  for  the  King  himself."  Billy  did  this, 
and  then  he  spread  out  the  napkin,  and  ate  and 


4  In  Chimney  Corners 

drank  to  his  heart's  content,  and  he  rolled  up 
the  napkin  and  put  it  back  in  the  bull's  ear 
again.  "Then,"  says  the  bull,  "now  put  your 
hand  into  my  right  ear  and  you'll  find  a  bit  of  a 
stick ;  if  you  wind  it  over  your  head  three 
times,  it  will  be  turned  into  a  sword  and  give 
you  the  strength  of  a  thousand  men  besides 
your  own,  and  when  you  have  no  more  need  of 
it  as  a  sword,  it  will  change  back  into  a  stick 
again."  Billy  did  all  this.  Then  says  the  bull, 
"At  twelve  o'clock  the  morrow  I'll  have  to  meet 
and  fight  a  great  bull."  Billy  then  got  up  again 
on  the  bull's  back,  and  the  bull  started  off  and 
away  where  you  wouldn't  know  day  by  night, 
or  night  by  day,  over  high  hills,  low  hills,  sheep- 
walks  and  bullock-traces,  the  Cove  of  Cork,  and 
old  Tom  Fox  with  his  bugle  horn.  There  he 
met  the  other  bull,  and  both  of  them  fought, 
and  the  like  of  their  fight  was  never  seen  before 
or  since.  They  knocked  the  soft  ground  into 
hard,  and  the  hard  into  soft,  the  soft  into  spring 
wells,  the  spring  wells  into  rocks,  and  the  rocks 
into  high  hills.  They  fought  long,  and  Billy 
Beg's  bull  killed  the  other,  and  drank  his  blood. 
Then  Billy  took  the  napkin  out  of  his  ear  again 


Billy  Beg  and  the  Bull  5 

and  spread  it  out  and  ate  a  hearty  good  dinner./ 
Then  says  the  bull  to  Billy,  says  he,  ''at  twelve 
o'clock  to-morrow,  I'm  to  meet  the  bull's 
brother  that  I  killed  the  day,  and  we'll 
have  a  hard  fight."  Billy  got  on  the 
bull's  back  again,  and  the  bull  started 
off  and  away  where  you  wouldn't  know 
day  by  night,  or  night  by  day,  over  high  hills, 
low  hills,  sheep-walks  and  bullock-traces,  the 
Cove  of  Cork,  and  old  Tom  Fox  with  his  bugle 
horn.  There  he  met  the  bull's  brother  that  he 
killed  the  day  before,  and  they  set  to,  and  they 
fought,  and  the  like  of  the  fight  was  never  seen 
before  or  since.  They  knocked  the  soft  ground 
into  hard,  the  hard  into  soft,  the  soft  into 
spring  wells,  the  spring  wells  into  rocks,  and 
the  rocks  into  high  hills.  They  fought  long, 
and  at  last  Billy's  bull  killed  the  other  and 
drank  his  blood.  And  then  Billy  took  out  the  nap- 
kin out  of  the  bull's  ear  again  and  spread  it  out 
and  ate  another  hearty  dinner.  Then  says  the 
bull  to  Billy,  says  he—The  morrow  at  twelve 
o'clock  I'm  to  fight  the  brother  to  the  two  bulls 
I  killed — he's  a  mighty  great  bull  entirely,  the 
strongest    of    them    all;     he's     called     the 


6  In  Chimney  Corners 

Black    Bull    of    the    Forest,     and    he'll    be 
too  able  for  me.      When   Fm    dead,"    says 
the    bull,    "you,    Billy,    will    take    with    you 
tlie     napkin,     and     you'll     never     be     hun- 
gry;  and  the  stick,  and  you'll  be  able  to  over- 
come everything  that  comes  in  your  way;   and 
take  out  your  knife  and  cut  a  strip  of  the  hide 
off  my  back  and  another  strip  off  my  belly 
and  make  a  belt  of  them,  and  as  long  as  you 
wear  them  you  cannot  be  killed."     Billy  was 
very  sorry  to  hear  this,  but  he  got  up  on  the 
bull's  back  again,  and  they  started  off  and  away 
where  you  wouldn't  know  day  by  night  or 
night  by  day,  over  high  hills,  low  hills,  sheep- 
walks  and  bullock-traces,  the  Cove  of  Cork  and 
old  Tom  Fox  with  his  bugle  horn.     And  sure 
enough  at  twelve  o'clock  the  next  day  they  met 
the  great  Black  Bull  of  the  Forest,  and  both  of 
the  bulls  to  it,  and  commenced  to  fight,  and  the 
like  of  the  fight  was  never  seen  before  or  since; 
they  knocked  the  soft  ground  into  hard  ground, 
and  the  hard  ground  into  soft  and  the  soft  into 
spring  wells,  the  spring  wells  into  rocks,  and 
the  rocks  into  high  hills.  And  they  fought  long, 
but  at  length  the  Black  Bull  of  the  Forest  killed 


Billy  Beg  and  the  Bull  7 

Billy  Beg's  bull,  and  drank  his  blood.  Billy 
Beg  was  so  vexed  at  this  that  for  two  days  he 
sat  over  the  bull  neither  eating  or  drinking,  but 
crying  salt  tears  all  the  time.  Then  he  got  up, 
and  he  spread  out  the  napkin,  and  ate  a  hearty 
dinner  for  he  was  very  hungry  with  his  long 
fast;  and  after  that  he  cut  a  strip  of  the  hide 
off  the  bull's  back,  and  another  off  the  belly, 
and  made  a  belt  for  himself,  and  taking  it  and 
the  bit  of  stick,  and  the  napkin,  he  set  out  to  push 
his  fortune,  and  he  travelled  for  three  days  and 
three  nights  till  at  last  he  come  to  a  great  gen- 
tleman's place.  Billy  asked  the  gentleman  if 
he  could  give  him  employment,  and  the  gentle- 
man said  he  wanted  just  such  a  boy  as  him  for 
herding  cattle.  Billy  asked  what  cattle  would 
he  have  to  herd,  and  what  wages  would  he  get. 
The  gentleman  said  he  had  three  goats,  three 
cows,  three  horses  and  three  asses  that  he  fed 
in  an  orchard,  but  that  no  boy  who  went  with 
them  ever  came  back  alive,  for  there  were  three 
giants,  brothers,  that  came  to  milk  the  cows 
and  the  goats  every  day,  and  killed  the  boy 
that  was  herding;  so  if  Billy  liked  to  try,  they 
wouldn't  fix  the  wages  till  they'd  see  if  he 


8  In  Chimney  Corners 

would  come  back  alive.     "Agreed,  then,"  said 
Billy.     So  the  next  morning  he  got  up  and 
drove  out  the  three  goats,  the  three  cows,  the 
three  horses,  and  the  three  asses  to  the  orchard 
and  commenced  to  feed  them.   About  the  mid- 
dle of  the  day  Billy  heard  three  terrible  roars 
that  shook  the  apples  off  the  bushes,  shook  the 
horns  on  the  cows,  and  made  the  hair  stand 
up  on  Billy's  head,  and  in  comes  a  frightful  big 
giant  with  three  heads,  and  begun  to  threaten 
Billy.     "You're  too  big,"  says  the  giant,  "for 
one  bite,  and  too  small  for  two.     What  will  I 
do  with  you  ?"    "I'll  fight  you,"  says  Billy,  says 
he  stepping  out  to  him  and  swinging  the  bit  of 
stick  three  times  over  his  head,  when  it  changed 
into  a  sword  and  gave  him  the  strength  of  a 
thousand  men  besides  his  own.     The  giant 
laughed  at  the  size  of  him,  and  says  he,  "Well, 
how  will  I  kill  you  ?    Will  it  be  by  a  swing  by 
the  back,*  a  cut  of  the  sword,  or  a  square  round 
of  boxing  ?"    "With  a  swing  by  the  back,"  says 
Billy,  "if  you  can."     So  they  both  laid  holds, 
and  Billy  lifted  the  giant  clean  off  the  ground, 
and  fetching  him  down  again  sunk  him  in  the 
♦A  wrestle. 


Billy  Beg  and  the  Bull  9 

earth  up  to  his  arm-pits.  "Oh,  have  mercy," 
says  the  giant.  But  Billy,  taking  his  sword, 
killed  the  giant,  and  cut  out  his  tongues.  It  was 
evening  by  this  time,  so  Billy  drove  home  the 
three  goats,  three  cows,  three  horses,  and  three 
asses,  and  all  the  vessels  in  the  house  wasn't 
able  to  hold  all  the  milk  the  cows  give  that 
night./;^ 

**Well,"  says  the  gentleman,  "This  beats  me, 
for  I  never  saw  anyone  coming  back  alive  out 
of  there  before,  nor  the  cows  with  a  drop  of 
milk.  Did  you  see  anything  in  the  orchard?" 
says  he.  "Nothing  worse  nor  myself,"  says 
Billy.  "What  about  my  wages,  now,"  says 
Billy.  "Well,"  says  the  gentleman,  "you'll 
hardly  come  alive  out  of  the  orchard  the  mor- 
row. So  we'll  wait  till  after  that."  Next 
morning  his  master  told  Billy  that  something 
must  have  happened  one  of  the  giants,  for  he 
used  to  hear  the  cries  of  three  every  night,  but 
last  night  he  only  heard  two  crying.  "I  don't 
know,"  says  Billy,  "anj^thing  about  them." 
That  morning  after  he  got  his  breakfast  Billy 
drove  the  three  goats,  three  cows,  three  horses, 
and  three  asses  into  the  orchard  again,  and  be- 


lo  In  Chimney  Corners 

gan  to  feed  them.  About  twelve  o'clock  he 
heard  three  terrible  roars  that  shook  the  apples 
off  the  bushes,  the  horns  on  the  cows,  and  made 
the  hair  stand  up  on  Billy's  head,  and  in  comes 
^^4^  frightful  big  giant,  with  six  heads,  and  he 
told  Billy  he  had  killed  his  brother  yesterday, 
but  he  would  make  him  pay  for  it  the  day. 
'*Ye're  too  big,"  says  he,  "for  one  bite,  and  too 
small  for  two,  and  what  will  I  do  with  you?" 
"I'll  fight  you,"  says  Billy,  swinging  his  stick 
three  times  over  his  head,  and  turning  it  into  a 
sword,  and  giving  him  the  strength  of  a  thou- 
sand men  besides  his  own.  The  giant  laughed 
at  him,  and  says  he,  *'How  will  I  kill  you — 
with  a  swing  by  the  back,  a  cut  of  the  sword,  or 
a  square  round  of  boxing?"  'With  a  swing 
by  the  back,"  says  Billy,  ''if  you  can."  So  the 
both  of  them  laid  holds,  and  Billy  lifted  the 
giant  clean  off  the  ground,  and  fetching  him 
down  again,  sunk  him  in  it  up  to  the  arm-pits. 
"Oh,  spare  my  life !"  says  the  giant.  But  Billy 
taking  up  his  sword,  killed  him  and  cut  out  his 
tongues.  It  was  evening  by  this  time,  and  Billy 
drove  home  his  three  goats,  three  cows,  three 
horses,  and  three  asses,  and  what  milk  the  cows 


Billy  Beg  and  the  Bull  1 1 

gave  that  night  overflowed  all  the  vessels  in  the 
house,  and,  running  out,  turned  a  rusty  mill 
that  hadn't  been  turned  before  for  thirty  years. 
If  the  master  was  surprised  seeing  Billy  coming 
back  the  night  before,  he  was  ten  times  more 
surprised  now.  ■*• 

''Did  you  see  anything  in  the  orchard  the 
day !"  says  the  gentleman.  "Nothing  worse  nor 
myself,"  says  Billy.  "What  about  my  wages 
now/'  says  Billy.  "Well,  never  mind  about 
your  wages,"  says  the  gentleman  till  the  mor- 
row, for  I  think  you'll  hardly  come  back  alive 
again,"  says  he.  Well  and  good,  Billy  went  to 
his  bed,  and  the  gentleman  went  to  his  bed,  and 
when  the  gentleman  rose  in  the  morning  says  he 
to  Billy,  "I  don't  know  what's  wrong  with  two 
of  the  giants;  I  only  heard  one  crying  last 
night."  "I  don't  know,"  says  Billy,  "they 
must  be  sick  or  something. "/t^Vell,  when  Billy 
got  his  breakfast  that  day  again,  he  set  out  to 
the  orchard,  driving  before  him  the  three  goats, 
three  cows,  three  horses  and  three  asses  and 
sure  enough  about  the  middle  of  the  day  he 
hears  three  terrible  roars  again,  and  in  comes 


12  In  Chimney  Corners 

another  giant,  this  one  with  twelve  heads  on 
him,  and  if  the  other  two  were  frightful,  surely 
this  one  was  ten  times  more  so.  **You  villain, 
you,"  says  he  to  Billy,  ''you  killed  my  two 
brothers,  and  I'll  have  my  revenge  on  you  now. 
Prepare  till  I  kill  you,"  says  he;  "you're  too 
big  for  one  bite,  and  too  small  for  two;  what 
will  I  do  with  you  ?"  "I'll  fight  you,"  says  Billy, 
shaping  out  and  winding  the  bit  of  stick  three 
times  over  his  head.  The  giant  laughed  heartily 
at  the  size  of  him,  and  says  he,  "What  way  do 
you  prefer  being  killed  ?  Is  it  with  a  swing  by 
the  back,  a  cut  of  the  sword,  or  a  square  round 
of  boxing?"  "A  swing  by  the  back,"  says 
Billy.  So  both  of  them  again  laid  holds,  and 
my  brave  Billy  lifts  the  giant  clean  off  the 
ground,  and  fetching  him  down  again,  sunk 
him  down  to  his  arm-pits  in  it.  "Oh,  have 
mercy;  spare  my  life,"  says  the  giant.  But 
Billy  took  his  sword,  and,  killing  him,  cut  out 
his  tongues.  That  evening  he  drove  home  his 
three  goats,  three  cows,  three  horses,  and  three 
asses,  and  the  milk  of  the  cows  had  to  be  turned 
into  a  valley  where  it  made  a  lough  three  miles 


Billy  Beg  and  the  Bull  1 3 

long,  three  miles  broad,  and  three  miles  deep, 
and  that  lough  has  been  filled  with  sal- 
mon and  white  trout  ever  since.  The 
gentleman  wondered  now  more  than  ever 
to  see  Billy  back  the  third  day  alive. 
**Did  you  see  nothing  in  the  orchard  the  day, 
Billy?''  says  he^'^'No,  nothing  worse  nor  my- 
self," says  Billy.  "Well  that  beats  me,"  says 
the  gentleman.  "What  about  my  wages  now?" 
says  Billy.  "Well,  you're  a  good  mindful  boy, 
that  T  couldn't  easy  do  without,"  says  the  gen- 
tleman, "and  I'll  give  you  any  wages  you  ask 
for  the  future."  The  next  morning,  says  the 
gentleman  to  Billy,  "I  heard  none  of  the  giants 
crying  last  night,  however  it  comes.  I  don't 
know  what  has  happened  to  them?"  "I  don't 
know,"  says  Billy,  "they  must  be  sick  or  some- 
thing."/("Now,  Billy,"  says  the  gentleman, 
"you  must  look  after  the  cattle  the  day  again, 
while  I  go  to  see  the  fight."  "What  fight?" 
says  Billy.  "Why,"  says  the  gentleman,  "it's 
the  king's  daughter  is  going  to  be  devoured  by 
a  fiery  dragon,  if  the  greatest  fighter  in  the  land, 
that  they  have  been  feeding  specially  for  the 


14  In  Chimney  Corners 

last  three  months,  isn't  able  to  kill  the  dragon 
first.  And  if  he's  able  to  kill  the  dragon  the 
king  is  to  give  him  the  daughter  in  marriage." 
*That  will  be  fine,"  says  Billy.  Billy  drove  out 
his  three  goats,  three  cows,  three  horses,  and 
three  asses  to  the  orchard  that  day  again,  and 
the  like  of  all  that  passed  that  day  to  see  the 
fig'ht  with  the  man  and  the  fiery  dragon,  Billy 
never  witnessed  before.  They  went  in  coaches 
and  carriages,  on  horses  and  jackasses,  riding 
and  walking,  crawling  and  creeping.  *''My  tight 
little  fellow,"  says  a  man  that  was  passing  to 
Billy,  "why  don't  you  come  to  see  the  great 
fight?"  "What  would  take  the  likes  of  me 
there  ?"  says  Billy.  But  when  Billy  found  them 
all  gone  he  saddled  and  bridled  the  best 
black  horse  his  master  had,  and  put  on 
the  best  suit  of  clothes  he  could  get  in 
his  master's  house,  and  rode  off  to  the  fight 
after  the  rest.A  When  Billy  went  there  he  saw 
the  king's  daughter  with  the  whole  court  about 
her  on  a  platform  before  the  castle,  and 
he  thought  he  never  saw  anything  half  as 
beautiful,    and   the   great    warrior    that   was 


Billy  Beg  and  the  Bull  15 

to  fight  the  dragon  was  walking  up  and 
down  on  the  lawn  before  her,  with  three  men 
carrying  his  sword,  and  every  one  in  the 
whole  country  gathered  there  looking  at  him. 
But  when  the  fiery  dragon  came  up  with 
twelve  heads  on  him,  and  every  mouth  of  him 
spitting  fire,  and  let  twelve  roars  out  of  him, 
the  warrior  ran  away  and  hid  himself  up  to  the 
neck  in  a  well  of  water,  and  all  they  could  do 
they  couldn't  get  him  to  come  and  face  the 
dragon.  Then  the  king's  daughter  asked  if 
there  was  no  one  there  to  save  her  from  the 
dragon,  and  get  her  in  marriage.  But  not  one 
stirred.  When  Billy  saw  this,  he  tied  the  belt 
of  the  bull's  hide  round  him,  swung  his  stick 
over  his  head,  and  went  in,  and  after  a  terrible 
fight  efttkeLy,  killed  the  dragon.  Every  one 
then  gathered  about  to  find  who  the  stran- 
ger was.  Billy  jumped  on  his  horse  and 
darted  away  sooner  than  let  them  know; 
but  just  as  he  was  getting  away  the 
king's  daughter  pulled  the  shoe  off  his 
foot.  When  the  dragon  was  killed  the  warrior 
that  had  hid  in  the  well  of  water  came  out,  and 


1 6  In  Chimney  Corners 

cutting  the  heads  off  the  dragon  he  brought 
them  to  the  king,  and  said  that  it  was  he  who 
killed  the  dragon,  in  disguise;  and  he  claimed 
the  king's  daughter.  But  she  tried  the  shoe  on 
him  and  found  it  didn't  fit  him;  so  she  said  it 
wasn't  him,  and  that  she  would  marry  no  one 
only  the  man  the  shoe  fittedi*^When  Billy  got 
home  he  changed  the  clothes  again,  and  had  the 
horse  in  the  stable,  and  the  cattle  all  in  before 
his  master  came.  When  the  master  came,  he 
began  telling  Billy  about  the  wonderful  day 
they  had  entirely,  and  about  the  warrior  hiding 
in  the  well  of  water,  and  about  the  grand 
stranger  that  came  down  out  of  the  sky  in  a 
cloud  on  a  black  horse,  and  killed  the  fiery 
dragon,  and  then  vanished  in  a  cloud  again. 
"And,  now,"  says  he,  "Billy,  wasn't  that  won- 
derful?" "It  was,  indeed,"  says  Billy,  "very 
wonderful  entirely."  After  that  it  was  given 
out  over  the  country  that  all  the  people  were  to 
come  to  the  king's  castle  on  a  certain  day,  till 
the  king's  daughter  would  try  the  shoe  on  them, 
and  whoever  it  fitted  she  was  to  marry  them. 
When  the  day  arrived  Billy  was  in  the  orchard 


Billy  Beg  and  the  Bull  17 

with  the  three  goats,  three  cows,  three  horses, 
and  three  asses,  as  usual,  and  the  hke  of  all  the 
crowds  that  passed  that  day  going  to  the  king's 
castle  to  get  the  shoe  tried  on,  he  never  saw  be- 
fore. They  went  in  coaches  and  carriages,  on 
horses  and  jackasses,  riding  and  walking,  and 
crawling  and  creeping.  They  all  asked  Billy 
was  not  he  going  to  the  king's  castle,  but  Billy 
said,  "Arrah,  what  would  be  bringin'  the  likes 
of  me  there?"  At  last  when  all  the  others 
had  gone  there  passed  an  old  man  with  a  very 
scarecrow  suit  of  rags  on  him,  and  Billy 
stopped  him  and  asked  him  what  boot  would  he 
take  and  swap  clothes  with  him.  "J^st  take 
care  of  yourself,  now,"  says  the  old  man,  "and 
don't  be  playing  off  your  jokes  on  my  clothes, 
or  maybe  Fd  make  you  feel  the  weight  of  this 
stick."  But  Billy  soon  let  him  see  it  was  in 
earnest  he  was,  and  both  of  theni  swapped 
suits,  Billy  giving  the  old  man  booj;,  yThen  off 
to  the  castle  started  Billy,  with  the  suit  of  rags 
on  his  back  and  an  old  stick  in  his  hand,  and 
when  he  come  there  he  found  all  in  great  com- 
motion trying  on  the  shoe,  and  some  of  them 


1 8  In  Chimney  Corners 

cutting  down  their  foot,  trying  to  get  it  to  fit 
But  it  was  all  of  no  use,  the  shoe  could  be  got 
to  fit  none  of  them  at  all,  and  the  king's  daugh- 
ter was  going  to  give  up  in  despair  when  the 
wee  ragged  looking  boy,  which  was  Billy,  el- 
bowed his  way  through  them,  and  says  he,  "Let 
me  try  it  on ;  maybe  it  would  fit  me."  But  the 
people  when  they  saw  him,  all  began  to  laugh 
at  the  sight  of  him,  and  "Go  along  out  of  that, 
you  example  you,"  says  they  shoving  and  push- 
ing him  back.  But  the  king's  daughter  saw 
him,  and  called  on  them  by  all  manner  of  means 
to  let  him  come  up  and  try  on  the  shoe.  So 
Billy  went  up,  and  all  the  people  looked  on, 
breaking  their  hearts  laughing  at  the  conceit  of 
it.  But  what  would  you  have  of  it,  but  to  the 
dumfounding  of  them  all,  the  shoe  fitted  Billy 
as  nice  as  if  it  was  made  on  his  foot  for  a  last. 
So  the  king's  daughter  claimed  Billy  as  her 
husband.  He  then  confessed  that  it  was  he  that 
killed  the  fiery  dragon ;  and  when  the  king  had 
him  dressed  up  in  a  silk  and  satin  suit,  with 
plenty  of  gold  and  silver  ornaments  everyone 
gave  in  that  his  like  they  never  saw  afore.    He 


Billy  Beg  and  the  Bull  19 

was  then  married  to  the  king's  daughter,  and 
the  wedding  lasted  nine  days,  nine  hours,  nine 
minutes,  nine  half  minutes  and  nine  quarter 
minutes,  and  they  lived  happy  and  well  from 
that  day  to  this.  I  got  brogues  of  brochan* 
and  breeches  of  glass,  a  bit  of  pie  for  telling  a 
lie,  and  then  I  came  slithering  home. 

*  Porridge. 


Murroghoo-More  and  Mur 
roghoo-Beg 


MURROGHOO-MORE  AND 
MURROGHOO-BEG 


MuRROGHOo-MORE  and  Murroghoo-beg  were 
cousins  and  lived  in  the  one  townland.  Murro- 
ghoo-more  was  the  biggest  and  strongest  and 
always  kept  poor  Murroghoo-beg  at  his  com- 
mand, and  made  him  do  what  he  liked.  Murro- 
ghoo-more  one  day  gave  Murroghoo-beg  a 
skillet  and  says  he  to  him,  "Murroghoo-beg, 
go  out  to  the  wood  and  pluck  the  full  of  that 
skillet  of  raspberries."  Murroghoo-beg  took 
the  skillet  and  went  to  the  wood  and  filled  it 
with  the  raspberries,  but  on  the  way  home  again 
there  come  on  a  shower,  and  Murroghoo-beg 
had  to  go  in  under  a  bush  till  it  would  pass  over. 
When  he  was  in  under  the  bush  he  began  to 
take  the  hunger,  and  when  he  looked  at  the  fine 
skillet  of  ripe  raspberries  he  was  carrying  home 
to  lazy  Murroghoo-more  his  teeth  began  to 
Water,  and  poor  Murroghoo-beg  couldn't  help 
23 


24  Iii  Chimney  Corners 

tasting  one  raspberry  just  to  see  what  they  were 
like,  and  then  another,  and  another,  till  at  last 
he  finished  the  skillet.  Very  well  and  good. 
When  he  came  home,  says  Murroghoo-more, 
"Where's  the  raspberries  I  sent  ye  for?"  *1 
had  the  full  of  the  skillet,  but  hunger  took  me 
on  the  road  home,  and  I  ate  them,"  says  Mur- 
roghoo-beg.  So  Murroghoo-more  thrashed 
him  soundly.  Well  the  next  morning  Murro- 
ghoo-more come  to  Murroghoo-beg  again,  and 
gave  him  the  skillet,  and  told  him  to  go  to  the 
wood  and  pull  him  a  skillet  of  raspberries ;  "and 
mind,"  says  he,  "that  hunger  doesn't  take  you 
on  the  way  home  the  day,  or  it  will  be  worse 
for  ye."  Poor  Murroghoo-beg  promised  that  it 
would  not,  and  he  set  out  this  day  again  and 
pulled  the  full  of  the  skillet  of  raspberries  in  the 
wood;  and  on  his  way  home  doesn't  a  shower 
come  on  again  and  put  him  under  a  bush,  and 
the  hunger  took  him  again,  and  he  ate  the  skil- 
let of  raspberries.  So  when  he  went  home  Mur- 
roghoo-more asked  him  where  was  his  rasp- 
berries, and  poor  Murroghoo-beg  told  him 
again  what  happened  to  him.  "All  right,"  says 
Murroghoo-more,  and  he  set  to  and  thrashed 


Murroghoo-More  and  Beg        25 

Murroghoo-beg  soundly.  Very  good,  the  next 
morning  Murroghoo-more  comes  to  Mur- 
roghoo-beg the  third  time,  and  gave  him 
the  skillet  and  told  him  to  go  out  to 
the  wood  and  pull  him  a  skillet  of  rasp- 
berries, and  that  if  he  ate  the  rasp- 
berries this  time  again  he  would  surely  have  his 
life.  But  poor  Murroghoo-beg  ate  a  hearty 
breakfast,  and  said  there  was  no  fear  of  the 
hunger  taking  him  the  day.  So  out  he  goes  to 
the  wood  and  fills  his  skillet  again,  and  set  out 
whistling  to  carry  it  home  to  Murroghoo-more. 
But  what  would  you  have  of  it  but  the  shower 
put  Murroghoo-beg  anunder  the  bush,  and  the 
hunger  took  him  and  he  ate  the  skillet  of  rasp- 
berries again.  Then  he  went  home  to  Murro- 
ghoo-more, and  says  Murroghoo-more, 
"Where's  my  skillet  of  raspberries  I  sent  you  to 
the  wood  to  pluck  for  me."  "Och !"  says  Mur- 
roghoo-beg, says  he,  "the  hunger  took  me  and 
I  ate  them."  "All  right,"  says  Murroghoa 
more,  "ye  must  die.  I'll  pick  out  your  eyes 
first,  and  then  I'll  leave  it  to  yourself  to  choose 
how  to  die  after."  So  he  got  a  pointed  stick, 
and  setting  it  on  fire,  he  put  it  into  poor  Murro- 


26  In  Chimney  Corners 

ghoo-beg's  eyes  and  burned  them  out.  "Now," 
says  Murroghoo-more,  "what  am  I  to  do  with 
you?"  "Well,"  says  Murroghoo-beg,  says  he, 
"I  suppose  the  easiest  death  will  be  to  leave  me 
over  in  that  old  church  all  night,  for  no  one 
that  stops  a  night  there  is  ever  alive  in  the 
morning."  Very  well  and  good,  Murroghoo- 
more  took  poor  Murroghoo-beg  over  to  the  old 
church  and  left  him  there.  About  midnight 
poor  Murroghoo-beg  hears  the  roolie-boolie 
and  helter-skelter,  and  in  comes  a  whole  raji- 
mint  of  cats.  Murroghoo-beg  got  under  some 
planks  in  the  corner,  so  he  wasn't  seen,  but 
could  hear  all  the  cats  would  say.  After  a  lot  of 
chat  they  proposed  to  tell  stories.  So  they 
squared  themselves  round,  and  then  they  dif- 
fered on  which  of  them  would  tell  the  first 
story.  Every  one  of  them  put  it  to  an  older 
one  till  at  length  it  came  to  an  old  granny  cat, 
and  she  consented  to  tell  her  story,  but  she  said 
the  house  would  have  to  be  well  searched  first, 
for  it  wouldn't  do  for  anyone  to  overhear  what 
she  had  to  say.  Well  and  good,  all  the  young 
cats  went  hurry  skurry  round  the  church,  look- 
ing under  the  seats  and  everywhere,  and  poor 


Murroghoo-More  and  Beg        27 

Murroghoo-beg  begun  to  tremble  in  his  skin 
now  with  fear  of  being  caught,  for  he  knew 
they  would  tear  him  to  pieces.  But  the  young 
cats  were  in  such  a  hurry  to  hear  the  old  granny 
cat's  story  that  they  forgot  to  look  under  the 
planks  where  Murroghoo-beg  was  hid.  Then 
they  reported  there  was  no  one  in  the  house  nor 
round  about  it,  so  the  old  cat  begun  her  story. 

"Well,"  says  she,  ''the  daughter  of  the  king 
is  lying  bad,  and  very  bad,  and  she  has  been 
that  way  now,  off  and  on,  for  twelve  months, 
only  it's  what  it's  worse  she  is  getting  every 
day,  and  all  the  first  doctors  in  the  land  have 
been  called  in,  and  the  king  has  offered  her 
weight  in  gold  to  the  man  that  will  cure  her, 
but  it's  all  of  no  use.  None  of  them  can  make 
out  what's  wrong  with  her,  or  how  she  can  be 
cured.  But  I  know  her  complaint  and  know 
how  to  cure  it,  and  I'll  tell  you  it  all,  only  you 
must  promise  never  to  come  out  with  it,  for  I 
mean  to  let  her  die  a  lingering  death,"  says  she. 

They  all  promised  that  they'd  never  split  lips 
again  on  the  subject,  so  the  spiteful  old  cat 
went  on — 

"Well,  then,"  says  she,  "long  ago.  when  she 


28  In  Chimney  Corners 

was  a  child,  she  saw  me  putting  my  head  into  a 
noggin  of  sweet-milk,  and  she  came  up  and 
hit  me  on  the  head,  and  made  me  drop  the 
mouthful  I  had  got,  back  into  the  pail  again, 
and  she  then  took  a  drink  out  of  the  pail  herself 
with  the  venom  of  my  spittal  in  it,  and  from 
that  day  young  serpents  have  been  growing  in 
her.  There's  one  thing,  and  only  one,  would 
cure  her,  and  rid  her  of  the  serpents,  and  that, 
please  the  devil,  she'll  never  have,  nor  never 
know  of — that  is,  just  three  spoonfuls  of 
water  out  of  the  well  here  at  the  back  of  the 
church,  to  be  taken  nine  mornings  on  the  bare 
stomach,  fasting." 

Murroghoo-beg  heard  all  this,  and  he  waited 
till  the  cats  went  all  away,  and  in  the  morning 
he  came  out,  and,  groping  his  way  to  the  well, 
he  took  off  his  boots  and  filled  one  of  them  with 
water,  and  then  started  for  the  king's  palace, 
and  when  he  come  there  all  that  place  was  in  a 
commotion  with  all  the  first  doctors  of  the  three 
kingdoms  and  France  besides.  And  when  poor 
Murroghoo-beg  come  in,  and  he  was  asked 
what  was  wrong  with  him,  and  he  said  he  had 
come  to  cure  the  king's  daughter;  and  they 


Murroghoo-More  and  Beg        29 

asked  him  where  was  his  medicine,  and  he  said 
he  had  it  in  his  boot,  they  commenced  laughing 
at  him,  and  the  doctors  ordered  him  to  be 
turned  out.  And  the  servants  begun  to  shove 
and  push  poor  Murroghoo-beg  to  put  him  out 
of  the  palace,  but  Murroghoo  wasn't  for  going, 
and  that  was  the  roolie-boolie !  And  by  the 
toss  o'  wars  what  with  the  wrestling  and  the 
fighting  and  the  racketing  they  made,  doesn't 
the  sick  lady  hear  it,  and  she  sent  down  word  to 
know  what  was  going  on.  And  they  sent  back 
the  word  that  it  was  a  poor  demented  man  that 
wanted  to  cure  her  ladyship  with  a  bootful  of 
spring  water.  ''Let  him  come  up,"  said  her 
ladyship;  ''sure  he  can't  do  no  worse  nor 
the  rest  of  them  anyhow."  Well,  her  wish, 
of  course,  was  a  command.  Up  my  brave  Mur- 
roghoo-beg was  taken,  and  when  he  come 
into  her  ladyship's  presence  he  told  her  he 
would  get  her  out  of  bed  in  short  time.  So 
he  put  her  under  cure  of  three  spoonfuls  of  the 
water  he  had  in  his  boot,  on  the  bare  stomach 
fasting  for  nine  mornings.  The  other  doctors 
looked  on  and  shook  their  heads,  but  daren't 
say  anything.    But  the  tables  were  soon  turned 


30  In  Chimney  Corners 

on  them,  for  sure  enough  the  very  first  day  she 
took  the  water  she  felt  great  ease  entirely,  and 
so  on  day  after  day,  till  on  the  morning  of  the 
ninth  day  after  she  had  took  the  medicine  she 
was  taken  with  a  fit  of  vomiting,  and  vomited 
up  the  full  of  a  basin  of  young  serpents,  and 
then  she  got  up  out  of  her  bed,  and  walked  out 
as  fine,  strong,  and  handsome  a  young  woman 
as  you  would  ask  to  see.  And  she  was  so  well 
pleased  at  this,  and  the  king  was  so  well  pleased 
that  they  sent  home  Murroghoo-beg  with  dou- 
ble her  weight  in  gold  along  with  him.  After 
Murrobhoo-beg  came  home  he  went  to  the  well 
behind  the  old  church  for  nine  mornings  bath- 
ing his  eyes  in  it  every  morning,  and  on  the 
ninth  morning  his  eyes  and  his  eyesight  were  as 
good  as  ever.  Poor  Murroghoo-beg  could  now 
live  happy  and  well  for  the  remainder  of  his 
days,  only  the  dread  was  in  him  still  of  Murro- 
ghoo-more,  and  he  knew  that  when  Murro- 
ghoo-more  would  hear  of  his  good  luck  he 
would  put  him  to  death,  and  take  his  gold.  And 
right  enough  it  wasn't  long  till  it  come  to  Mur- 
roghoo-more's  ears  that  Murroghoo-beg  was 
back  alive  again  with  his  eyes  and  eyesight,  and 


Murroghoo-More  and  Beg        31 

no  end  of  gold  into  the  bargain,  however  he 
had  come  by  it.  So  my  brave  Murroghoo-more 
starts  out  and  comes  to  Murroghoo-beg,  and, 
''Murroghoo-beg,"  says  he,  "1  thought  I  left  ye 
for  death;  and  is  it  here  ye  are  now?"  "Oh," 
says  Murroghoo-beg,  ''but  it  was  you  that  did 
me  the  good  turn  entirely.  Here  I  am  now 
with  eyes  and  my  eyesight,  and  a  good  bag  of 
gold  into  the  bargain;  and  if  you  would  only 
put  out  my  eyes  and  leave  me  overnight  in  the 
old  church  again,  I  think  I  would  have  still  bet- 
ter luck  this  time."  "How  is  that?"  says  Mur- 
roghoo-more. "Why,"  says  Murroghoo-beg, 
this  is  the  way  of  it" — and  he  commences  tell- 
ing Murroghoo-more  about  how  there  was  a 
lot  of  cats  came  every  night  to  the  old  church, 
and  commenced  to  tell  stories  every  one  of  them 
about  where  there  was  no  end  of  treasure  hid, 
and  about  wonderful  easy  cures  for  eyes  that 
would  be  picked  out  of  men's  heads,  till  he  had 
Murroghoo-more  beside  himself  with  delight. 
"You  must  take  and  pick  out  my  eyes,  now," 
says  Murroghoo-more,  "and  leave  me  in  the  old 
church  the  night."  "Very  good,"  says  Mur- 
roghoo-beg, "ril  do  that  with  a  heart  and  a 


32  In  Chimney  Corners 

half."  So  reddening  a  pointed  stick  in  the  fire 
Murroghoo-beg  picked  out  the  eyes  of  Mur- 
roghoo-more,  and  took  him  to  the  old  church, 
and  hid  him  under  the  same  planks  he  had  been 
under  himself.  And  there  Murroghoo-more 
lay  till  midnight,  when  he  hears  the  roolie-boo- 
lie  starting,  and  in  comes  tumbling  the  cats. 
**Och,  square  round,  square  round,"  the  young 
ones  begun  to  cry  till  we  tell  stories.  "Now," 
says  Murroghoo-more  to  himself,  "now 
I'm  in  for  it."  "I'll  tell  no  more  stories," 
says  the  old  granny  cat,  "for  the  last  night  that 
I  told  the  story  about  the  king's  daughter  you 
didn't  search  the  house  rightly,  and  Murroghoo- 
beg  was  lying  hid  there  under  them  planks  in 
the  corner,  and  he  heard  the  whole  rehearsal 
and  went  off  and  cured  her — bad  luck  to  him 
and  her! — and  got  double  her  weight  in  gold 
for  it,  and  cured  his  own  eyes  that  had  been 
picked  out  by  Murroghoo-more  into  the  bar- 
gain." "Oh,  but,"  says  the  young  cats,  "we'll 
search  better  this  night,  and  I'll  warrant 
you  we'll  look  under  the  planks,  and 
may  the  Lord  pity  Murroghoo-beg  if  he's 
eavesdropping    again."    So    off    they    set  at 


Murroghoo-More  and  Beg       33 

a  gallop  to  search  the  house,  beginning 
first  by  looking  under  the  planks;  and 
when  they  went  in  there,  oh,  that  jvas  the  ruc- 
tion and  the  uproar,  and  out  they  comes,  haul- 
ing Murroghoo-more  with  them,  and  when  the 
old  cats  saw  this  they  come  bouncing  down, 
spitting,  and  their  eyes  flashing  fire,  and  all  of 
them  fell  on  him,  tearing  him  to  pieces,  and  it 
was  trying  to  see  who  would  get  most  of 
him  they  were.  So,  when  Murroghoo-beg 
went  to  the  old  church  in  the  morning  to  see 
what  had  become  of  Murroghoo-more,  he  got 
nothing  only  a  rickle  of  bare  bones.  Mur- 
roghoo-beg buried  these,  and  went  home  and 
lived  happy  ever  after. 


The  Queen  of  the  Golden 

Mines 


THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  GOLDEN 

MINES 


Once  on  a  time  there  was  a  King  of  Ireland, 
and  he  had  three  sons,  Teddy,  Billy,  and  Jack. 
Teddy  and  Billy  was  the  two  eldest,  and  they 
were  brave  able  boys.  But  Jack  was  the  young- 
est, a  gauchy,  dawnie  sort  of  a  lad  that  was 
good  for  nothing  only  feeding  fowls  and  doing 
odd  turns  about  the  house.  When  they  grew  up 
to  be  men,  Teddy  and  Billy  one  day  said  they'd 
go  away  to  travel  and  see  the  world,  for  they'd 
only  be  good-for-nothing  omadhauns  if  they'd 
stay  here  all  their  lives.  Their  father  said  that 
was  good,  and  so  off  the  both  of  them  started. 
And  that  night  when  they  halted  from  their 
travelling,  who  does  they  see  coming  up  after 
them,  but  Jack;  for  it  seems  he  commenced  to 
think  long,  when  he  found  them  gone,  and  he 
was  that  lonesome  that  he  couldn't  stay  behind 
them.  And  there  he  was  dressed  in  his  old  tat- 
37 


38  In  Chimney  Corners  \ 

tered  clothes,  a  spec-tacle  for  the  world,  and  a 
disgrace  to  them ;  for  of  course,  they  were  done 
off  with  the  best  of  everything — rale  gentlemen, 
as  becomed  their  father's  sons.  They  said  to 
themselves  they'd  be  long  sorry  to  let  that  pic- 
thur  with  them — for  he  was  a  picthur,  and  no 
doubt  of  it — to  be  an  upcast  to  them  wherever 
they'd  go.  So  before  they  started  on  again  next 
mornin'  they  tied  Jack  to  a  millstone,  and  left 
him  there.  That  night  again,  when  they  went 
to  stop  from  their  travellin',  what  would  you 
have  of  it  but  there  was  me  brave  Jack  once 
more,  not  a  hundred  parches  behind  them,  and 
he  dragging  the  millstone  after  him.  Teddy 
and  Billy  said  this  was  too  bad  entirely;  and 
next  day,  before  they  started  again,  they  tied 
another  millstone  to  him,  and  they  said,  "Well, 
you'll  not  get  away  from  here  in  a  hurry  any- 
how, boy."  So  on  they  went  again  on  their 
journey,  laughing  and  cracking  jokes,  and  tell- 
ing passages,  to  pass  the  time;  but  that  night 
again,  when  thty  went  to  stop  from  their  jour- 
ney, lo !  and  behold  ye,  who  does  they  see  com- 
ing tearing  after  them  but  my  poor  Jack,  once 
more,  with  the  two  millstones  dragging  behind 


Queen  of  the  Golden  Mines      39 

him.  Then  they  were  in  a  quandhary  entirely, 
and  they  begun  to  consider  what  was  best  to 
do  with  him,  for  they  saw  there  was  no  holdin* 
or  tyin'  of  him,  or  keepin'  him  back  at  all,  at  all, 
for  if  they  were  to  tie  him  to  a  mountain  in  the 
mornin',  he'd  be  afther  them  with  the  mountain 
rattling  at  his  heels  again'  night.  So  they  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  best  to  take  Jack 
with  them,  and  purtend  him  to  be  their  hired 
boy,  and  not  their  brother  at  all.  Of  course, 
me  poor  Jack,  that  was  always  agreeable,  was 
only  too  ready  to  go  on  these  terms ;  and  on  the 
three  of  them  went,  afore  them,  till  at  length 
they  reached  the  King  of  England's  castle. 
When  the  King  of  England  heard  Teddy  and 
Billy  was  the  King  of  Ireland's  two  sons,  he 
give  them  ceud  mile  failte,  was  plaised  and 
proud  to  see  them,  ordhered  them  to  be  made 
much  of,  then  opened  his  hall  door,  an'  asked  in 
the  nobility  an'  genthry  of  the  whole  counthry 
side  to  a  big  dinner  and  ball  that  he  gave  in 
their  honour.  But  what  do  you  have  of  it,  but 
in  the  middle  of  the  ball  doesn't  Teddy  have  a 
fall  out  with  the  King  of  England's  son,  and 
sthruck  him,  and  then  that  was  the  play!    The 


40  In  Chimney  Corners 

hubbub  and  hooroosh  got  up,  and  the  King 
ordhered  the  ball  to  be  stopped,  and  had  Teddy 
taken  pres'ner,  and  Billy  and  Jack  ordhered 
away  out  of  the  kingdom.  Billy  and  Jack  went 
away,  vexed  in  their  hearts  at  leaving  Teddy 
in  jail,  and  they  travelled  away  till  they  came  to 
France,  and  the  King  of  France's  Castle.  Here 
when  the  King  of  France  heard  that  Billy,  the 
King  of  Ireland's  son,  had  come  to  see  him  he 
went  out  and  welcomed  him,  an'  asked  in  him- 
self and  Jack  to  come  in  and  make  a  visit  with 
him.  And,  like  the  King  of  England,  he 
thought  he  couldn't  make  too  much  of  the  King 
of  Ireland's  sons,  and  threw  open  his  hall  door 
and  asked  in  the  whole  nobility  and  clergy  and 
genthry  of  all  the  country  side  into  a  great  din- 
ner and  ball  given  in  Billy's  honour.  But  lo! 
and  behould  ye,  doesn't  it  turn  up  at  this  ball, 
too,  that  Billy  had  a  squabble  with  the  King  of 
France's  son  and  struck  him,  and  the  ball  was 
stopped  by  the  King's  ordhers,  and  the  people 
sent  home,  and  Billy  taken  prisoner,  and  there 
was  poor  Jack  now  left  all  alone.  The  King  of 
France,  taking  pity  on  Jack,  employed  him  as 
a  boy.    And  Jack  was  getting  along  very  well 


Queen  of  the  Golden  Mines      41 

at  Court,  and  the  king  and  him  used  to  have 
very  great  yarns  together  entirely.  At  length 
a  great  war  broke  out  betwixt  France  and 
Germany;  and  the  King  of  France  was  in  great 
trouble,  for  the  Germans  were  slaughtering 
and  conquering  all  before  them.  Says  Jack, 
says,  he  to  the  King  one  day,  "I  wish  I  had  only 
half  a  rajimint  of  your  men,  and  you'd  see 
what  I  would  do."  Instead  of  this  the  King 
gave  him  a  whole  army,  and  in  less  nor  three 
days  there  wasn't  a  German  alive  in  the  whole 
kingdom  of  France.  It  was  the  king  was  the 
thankful  man  to  Jack  for  this  good  action,  and 
said  he  never  could  forget  it  to  him.  After  that 
Jack  got  into  great  favour  at  Court,  and  used 
to  have  long  chats  with  the  Queen  herself.  But 
Jack  soon  found  that  he  never  could  come  into 
the  Queen's  presence  that  he  didn't  put  her  in 
tears.  He  asked  her  one  day  what  was  the  mean- 
ing of  this,  and  she  told  him  that  it  was  be- 
cause she  never  looked  on  him  that  he  didn't  put 
her  in  mind  of  her  infant  son  that  had,  twelve 
months'  before,  been  carried  away  by  the  Queen 
of  the  Golden  Mines,  and  who  she  had  never 
heard  tale  or  tidings  of  from  that  day  to  this. 


42  In  Chimney  Corners 

"Well,  be  this  and  be  that,"  says  Jack,  says  he, 
''but  I'm  not  the  man  to  leave  ye  in  your  trouble 
if  I  can  help  it;  and  be  this  and  be  that  over 
again,"  says  he,  "but  I  won't  sleep  two  nights 
in  the  one  bed,  or  eat  two  meals'  meat  in  the  one 
house,  till  I  find  out  the  Queen  of  the  Golden 
Mines's  Castle,  and  fetch  back  your  infant  son 
to  ye — or  else  I'll  not  come  back  livin,."  ''Ah," 
says  the  Queen,  "that  would  never  do!"  and 
"Ah,"  says  the  King,  "that  would  never  do  at 
all,  at  all!"  They  pointed  out  and  showed  to 
him  how  a  hundred  great  knights  had  gone  on 
the  same  errand  before  him,  and  not  one  of 
them  ever  come  back  livin',  and  there  was 
no  use  in  him  throwin'  away  his  life,  for 
they  couldn't  afford  to  lose  him.  But  it  was  all 
no  use;  Jack  was  bound  on  goin',  and  go  he 
would.  So,  the  very  next  morning  he  was  up  at 
cock-crow,  and  afther  leavin'  good-bye  with  the 
whole  of  them,  and  leavin'  the  King  and  the 
Queen  in  tears,  he  started  on  his  journey.  And 
he  travelled  away  afore  him,  inquiring  his  way 
to  the  Castle  of  the  Queen  of  the  Golden  Mines ; 
and  he  travelled  and  tramped  for  many  a  weary 
day,  and  for  manv  a  weary  week,  and  for  many 


Queen  of  the  Golden  Mines      43 

a  weary  month ;  till  at  last  when  it  was  drawing 
on  twelve  months  from  the  day  he  left  the 
Castle  of  the  King  of  France,  one  day  tors't 
evening  he  was  travelling  through  a  thick 
wood,  when  he  fell  in  with  an  old  man,  resting, 
with  a  great  bundle  of  sticks  by  his  side;  and 
*'Me  poor  old  man,"  says  Jack,  says  he,  ^'that's 
a  mighty  great  load  entirely  for  a  poor  man  of 
your  years  to  be  carryin'.  Sure,  if  ye'U  allow 
me,  I'll  just  take  them  with  me,  for  ye,  as  far  as 
you're  goin'."  "Blissins  on  ye !"  says  the  ould 
man;  "an'  an  ould  man's  blissin'  atop  of  that; 
an'  thanky."  "Nobbut,  thanky,  yerself,  for  your 
good  wishes,"  says  Jack,  says  he,  throwin'  the 
bundle  of  sticks  on  his  shoulder,  an'  marchin' 
on  by  the  ould  man's  side.  And  they  thravelled 
away  through  the  wood  till  they  come  at  last 
to  the  ould  man's  cabin.  And  the  ould  man 
axed  Jack  to  come  in  and  put  up  with  him  for 
the  night,  and  such  poor  accommodation  as  he 
had.  Jack  was  heartily  welcome  to  them.  Jack 
thanked  him  and  went  in  and  put  up  the  night 
with  him,  and  in  the  morning  Jack  told  the 
ould  man  the  arrand  he  was  on  and  axed  if  he'd 
diract  him  on  his  way  to  the  Queen  of  the 


44  In  Chimney  Corners 

Golden  Mines's  Castle.  Then  the  ould  man 
took  out  Jack,  and  showed  him  a  copper  castle 
glancing  in  the  sun,  on  a  hill  opposite,  and  told 
him  that  was  his  journey's  end.  "But,  my  poor 
man,"  says  he,  ''I  would  strongly  advise  ye  not 
to  go  next  or  near  it.  A  hundred  knights  went 
there  afore  you  on  the  self-same  errand,  and 
their  heads  are  now  stuck  on  a  hundred  spears 
right  afore  the  castle;  for  there's  a  fiery  dragon 
guards  it  that  makes  short  work  of  the  best  of 
them."  But  seeing  Jack  wasn't  to  be  persuaded 
off  his  entherprise  nohow,  he  took  him  in  and 
gave  him  a  sword  that  carried  ten  men's 
strength  in  it  along  with  that  of  the  man  that 
wielded  it.  And  he  told  Jack,  if  he  was  alive 
again'  night,  and  not  killed  by  the  dhragon,  to 
come  back  to  his  cabin.  Jack  thanked  him  for 
the  sword,  and  promised  this,  and  then  he  set 
out  for  the  castle.  But  lo !  and  behold  ye,  no 
sooner  did  Jack  come  anear  the  castle  than  a 
terrible  great  monsther  of  a  dhragon  entirely, 
the  wildest  ever  Jack  seen  or  heard  tell  3f,  come 
out  from  the  castle,  and  he  opened  his  mouth  as 
wide  as  the  world  from  side  to  side,  and  let  a 
roar  that  started  the  old  grey  eagle  on  top  of 


Queen  of  the  Golden  Mines      45 

Croaghpathrick  mountain  at  home  in  Ireland. 
Poor  Jack  thrimbled  from  head  to  foot 
— and  small  wonder  he  did — but,  not  a 
bit  daunted,  he  went  on  to  meet  the 
dhragon,  and  no  sooner  were  they  met 
than  he  to  it  and  the  dhragon  to  it,  and 
they  fought  and  sthrove  long  and  hard,  the 
wildest  fight  by  far  that  poor  Jack  ever  entered 
into,  and  they  fought  that  way  from  early 
mornin'  till  the  sun  went  down,  at  one  time 
Jack  seemin'  to  be  gettin'  the  betther  of  the 
dhragon,  and  the  next  minute  the  dhragon  get- 
tin' the  betther  of  Jack ;  and  when  the  sun  went 
down  they  called  a  truce  of  peace  till  next  day ; 
and  Jack  dragged  himself  back  to  the  cabin  in 
small  hopes  of  being  able  to  meet  the  dhragon 
more,  for  he  was  covered  over  with  wounds 
from  head  to  foot.  But  when  he  got  to  the 
cabin  the  ould  man  welcomed  him  back  alive, 
and  he  took  down  a  little  bottle  of  ointment  and 
rubbed  it  over  Jack,  and  no  sooner  did  he  rub  it 
over  him  than  Jack's  wounds  were  all  healed  as 
well  as  ever  again.  And  Jack  went  out  a  new 
man  the  next  mornin'  to  give  the  dhragon  an- 
other try  for  it  this  day.    And  just  as  on  the 


46  In  Chimney  Corners 

day  afore  the  fiery  dhragon  come  down  the  hill 
meeting  poor  Jack ;  and  the  dhragon  opened  his 
mouth  as  wide  as  the  world,  and  gave  a  roar 
that  shook  the  nails  on  the  toes  of  the  great 
grey  eagle  on  top  of  Croaghpathrick  mountain 
at  home  in  Ireland,  and  then  he  fell  on  Jack, 
and  Jack  fell  on  him,  and  the  dhragon 
to  it,  and  Jack  to  it;  and  the  dhragon 
gave  Jack  his  fill,  and  Jack  gave  the 
dhragon  his  fill;  and  if  they  fought  hard  the 
day  afore  they  fought  double  as  hard  this  day, 
and  the  dhragon  put  very  sore  on  Jack  entirely 
till  the  sun  went  down.  Then  again  they  agreed 
on  a  truce  of  peace  till  the  next  mornin',  and 
Jack  dragged  himself  back  as  best  he  could  to 
the  cabin  again,  all  covered  over  with  cuts  and 
bruises,  and  streaming  down  with  blood.  And 
when  he  came  there  the  ould  man  took  down  a 
little  bottle  of  ointment  and  rubbed  Jack  over 
with  it,  and  he  was  healed  as  well  as  ever  again. 
Next  morning  Jack  was  up  quite  fresh  and 
ready  for  another  day's  battling,  and  the  ould 
man  told  Jack  that,  win  or  lose,  this  day  was 
like  to  end  the  battle.  And  he  said  if  Jack  hap- 
pened (as  God  send)  to  come  off  victorious,  he 


Queen  of  the  Golden  Mines      47 

was  to  go  into  the  castle,  and  there  he  would 
find  a  great  number  of  beautiful  virgins  run- 
ning about  in  great  confusion  to  prevent  Jack 
from  discovering  their  mistress  the  Queen  of 
the  Golden  Mines,  and  every  one  of  them  axing, 
"Is  it  me  ye  want  ?    Is  it  me  ye  want  ?"    But  he 
told  Jack  he  was  to  heed  none  of  them,  but  press 
through  room  after  room  till  he  come  to  the 
sixth  room,  and  there  he  would  find  the  Queen 
herself  asleep,  with  the  little  child  by  her  side. 
So  Jack  went  meeting  the  dhragon  this  third 
day  again,  and  the  dhragon  come  meeting  Jack. 
And  he  opened  his  mouth  as  wide  as  the  world, 
and  let  a  roar  that  rattled  the  eyes  in  the  sockets 
of  the  great  grey  eagle  on  top  of  Croaghpath- 
rick  mountain  at  home  in  Ireland,  and  then  fell 
on  Jack,  and  Jack  fell  on  him;  and  he  to  it, 
and    Jack    to    it,    and    both    of    them    to  it; 
and     if    the    fight    was     wild     and    terrible 
the     first     two     days     it     was     ten     times 
wilder    and    terribler    this  day.    And  harder 
and    harder    it    was    getting    the  more  they 
warmed  to  the  work ;  and  one  time  it  was  Jack 
was  getting  the  better  of  the  dhragon,  and  the 
next  time  it  was  the  dhragon  was  getting  the 


48  In  Chimney  Corners 

better  of  poor  Jack ;  and  at  last  coming  on  tor'sf 
night  the  dhragon  was  putting  very  hard  on 
Jack  entirely,  and  it  was  very  nearly  being  all 
over  with  him,  when  he  stepped  back,  and  gath- 
ering all  his  strength  mounted  into  the  air  with 
one  spring,  and  come  down  atop  of  the  dhra- 
gon's  head,  and  struck  his  sword  into  his  heart, 
leaving  him  over  dead.  Then  Jack  went 
into  the  castle,  and  no  sooner  did  he  go 
in  than  there  was  lots  of  the  most  beautiful  vir- 
gins, running  in  great  commotion,  and  ask- 
ing Jack,  "is  it  me  ye  want?"  ''Is  it  me  ye 
want?"  But  Jack  never  heeded  thim  till  he 
come  into  the  sixth  room,  where  he  saw  the 
beautiful  Queen  of  the  Golden  Mines  asleep, 
with  the  Queen  of  France's  child  asleep  beside 
her.  Jack  bent  over  her  and  gave  her  one  kiss, 
for  she  was  a  lovely  picthur.  Then  he  took  up 
the  child  in  his  arms,  and  picking  up  a  beautiful 
garter  all  glancing  with  diamonds,  that  was  ly- 
ing by  the  Queen's  bedside,  and  taking  with 
him  a  loaf  of  bread  that  could  never  be  eaten 
out,  a  bottle  of  wine  that  could  never  be  drunk 
out,  and  a  purse  that  could  never  be  emptied,  he 
started  away.    He  stopped  that  night  with  the 


Queen  of  the  Golden  Mines      49 

ould  man,  who  took  down  his  bottle  of  ointment 
and  healed  up  all  the  wounds  Jack  got  that  day. 
In  the  morning  Jack  started  for  France,  leaving 
with  the  ould  man  to  keep  till  the  Queen  of  the 
Golden  Mines  would  call  for  it  the  purse  that 
never  could  be  emptied.  When  Jack  reached 
France,  and  presented  back  to  the  Queen  her 
darling  child,  that  was  the  rejoicement  and  the 
joy!  There  was  a  great  faist  given,  and  at  the 
faist  Jack  said  he  had  a  little  wondher  he 
fetched  with  him,  that  he'd  like  to  show;  and 
he  produced  his  bottle,  and  sent  it  round  the 
prences,  and  nobility,  and  genthry  that  were  all 
assembled  at  the  faist,  and  axed  them  all  to 
drink  the  Queen's  health  out  of  it.  This  they 
all  did ;  and  lo !  and  behold  ye,  when  they  had 
finished  the  bottle  was  as  full  as  when  they 
commenced ;  and  they  all  said  that  bate  all  ever 
they  knew  or  heerd  tell  of;  and  the  King  said 
it  bate  all  ever  he  knew  or  heerd  tell  of,  too, 
and  that  the  same  bottle  would  be  of  mighty 
great  sarvice  to  him,  to  keep  his  troops  in  drink 
when  he'd  go  to  war,  and  axed  Jack  on  what 
tarms  lie'd  part  with  it.  Jack  said  he  couldn't 
part  with  it  entirely,  as  it  wasn't  his  own,  but 


50  In  Chimney  Corners 

if  the  King  relaised  his  brother  he'd  leave  the 
bottle  with  him  till  such  times  as  the  Queen  of 
the  Golden  Mines  might  call  for  it.    The  Queen 
agreed  to  this.     Jack's  brother  was  relaised, 
and  himself  and  Jack  started  off  for  England. 
When  they  were  come  there  the  King  of  Eng- 
land gave  a  great  faist  in  their  honour,  too,  and 
at  this  faist  Jack  said  he'd  like  to  show  them  a 
little  wonder  he  fetched  with  him,  and  he  pro- 
duced the  loaf,  and  axed  the  King  to  divide  all 
round.    And  the  King  cut  off  the  loaf,  and  di- 
vided all  round,  over  all  the  prences  and  nobility 
and  gentry  that  was  there ;  and  when  he  had  fin- 
ished they  were  all  lost  in  wondherment,  for 
the  loaf  was  still  as  big  as  when  the  King  com- 
menced to  cut.     The  King  said  that  would  be 
the  grand  loaf  for  feeding  his  troops  whenever 
he  went  to  war,  and  axed  Jack  what  would  he 
take  to  part  with  it.    Jack  said  the  loaf  wasn't 
his  to  part  with,  but  if  the  King  relaised  his 
brother  out  of  prison  he'd  give  him  the  loaf  till 
such  times  as  the  Queen  of  the  Golden  Mines 
might  call  for  it.    The  King  agreed  to  this, 
and  relaised  Jack's  other  brother,  and  then  the 
three  of  them  started  for  home  together.    And 


Queen  of  the  Golden  Mines      5 1 

when  they  were  come  near  home  the  two  older 
brothers  agreed  that  Jack  when  he'd  tell  his 
story  would  disgrace  them,  and  they'd  put  him 
to  death.  But  Jack  agreed  if  they'd  let  him  live 
he  would  go  away  and  push  his  fortune,  and 
never  go  back  near  home.  They  let  him  live  on 
these  conditions,  and  they  pushed  on  home, 
where  they  were  received  with  great  welcomes, 
and  told  mortial  great  things  entirely  of  all  the 
great  things  they  done  while  they  were  away. 
Jack  come  to  the  castle  in  disguise  and  got  hired 
as  a  boy  and  lived  there. 

The  Queen  of  the  Golden  Mines,  when  she 
woke  up  and  learned  of  the  young  gentleman 
that  had  killed  the  dhragon,  and  carried  off  the 
child  and  the  other  things,  and  kissed  her,  said 
he  must  be  a  fine  fellow  entirely,  and  she  would 
never  marry  another  man  if  she  couldn't  find 
him  out.  She  got  no  rest  till  she  started,  her- 
self and  her  virgins,  and  away  to  find  out  Jack. 
She  first  come  to  the  old  man,  where  she  got 
her  purse,  and  he  directed  her  to  the  King  of 
France.  When  she  come  to  the  Coort  of  the 
King  of  France  she  got  her  bottle,  and  he  said 
Jack  went  from  there  to  go  to  see  the  King  of 


52  In  Chimney  Corners 

England.  From  the  King  of  England  she  got 
her  loaf,  and  he  diracted  her  to  Ireland,  telling 
her  that  Jack  was  no  other  than  the  King  of 
Ireland^s  son.  She  lost  no  time  then  reaching 
the  court  of  the  King  of  Ireland,  where  she  de- 
manded his  son  who  had  killed  the  fiery  dhra- 
gon.  The  King  sent  out  his  eldest  son,  and  he 
said  it  was  him  that  had  killed  the  fiery  dhra- 
gon,  and  she  asked  him  for  tokens,  but  he  could 
give  none,  so  she  said  he  wasn't  the  man  she 
wanted.  Then  the  King's  second  son  come  out 
and  said  it  was  him  killed  the  fiery  dhragon. 
But  he  couldn't  show  her  no  tokens  either,  so  he 
wouldn't  do.  Then  the  King  said  he  had  no 
other  son,  but  a  good-for-nothing  droich  who 
went  away  somewhere  and  never  come  back; 
but  that  it  wasn't  him  anyhow,  for  he  couldn't 
kill  a  cockroach.  She  said  she'd  have  to  see 
him,  and  converse  with  him,  or  otherwise  she 
wouldn't  go  away  till  she'd  pull  down  his  castle. 
Then  the  whole  house  was  upside  down,  and 
they  didn't  know  what  to  do.  And  Jack,  who 
was  doing  something  about  the  yards  axed 
what  it  was  all  about ;  and  they  told  him,  and 
he  axed  to  have  a  minute's  convarsing  with 


Queen  of  the  Golden  Mines      53 

ner.  But  they  all  laughed  at  him ;  and  one  gave 
him  a  knock,  and  another  gave  him  a  push,  and 
another  gave  him  a  kick.  And  Jack  never 
minded  them  one  bit,  but  went  out  and  said  it 
was  him  that  kilt  the  fiery  dhragon.  They  all 
set  up  another  big  roar  of  a  laugh  at  this.  Then 
the  Queen  asked  him  to  show  his  tokens,  and 
Jack  fetched  from  his  pocket  the  beautiful  gar- 
ter, all  shining  with  jewels,  and  held  it  up,  and 
the  Queen  came  and  threw  her  arms  about 
Jack's  neck  and  kissed  him,  and  said  he  was  the 
brave  man  she'd  marry,  and  no  other.  And  my 
brave  Jack,  to  the  astonishment  of  them  all, 
confessed  who  he  was,  and  got  married  to  her, 
and  was  ever  afther  the  King  of  the  Golden 
Mines. 


The  Widow's  Daughter 


THE  WIDOW'S  DAUGHTER 


There  was  once  a  poor  widow  woman,  liv- 
ing in  the  North  of  Ireland,  who  had  one 
daughter  named  Nabla.  And  Nabla  grew  up 
both  idle  and  lazy,  till  at  length,  when  she  had 
grown  to  be  a  young  woman,  she  was  both 
thriftless  and  useless,  fit  only  to  sit  with  her 
heels  in  the  ashes  and  croon  to  the  cat  the  day 
long.  Her  mother  was  annoyed  with  her,  so 
that  one  day,  when  Nabla  refused  to  do  some 
little  trifle  about  the  house,  her  mother  got  out 
a  good  stout  sallyrod  and  came  in  and  thrashed 
her  soundly  with  it. 

As  her  mother  was  giving  Nabla  the  whack- 
ing she  had  so  richly  earned,  who  should  hap- 
pen to  be  riding  past  but  the  King's  son  himself. 
He  heard  the  mother  walloping  and  scolding, 
and  Nabla  crying  and  pleading  within.  So  he 
drew  rein,  and  at  the  top  of  his  voice  shouted  to 
57 


58  In  Chimney  Corners 

know  what  was  the  matter.  The  widow  came 
to  the  door,  curtseying  when  she  saw  who  he 
was.  Not  wishing  to  give  out  a  bad  name  on 
her  daughter,  she  told  the  King's  son  that  she 
had  a  daughter  who  killed  herself  working  the 
leelong  day  and  refused  to  rest  when  her 
mother  asked  her,  so  that  she  had  always  to  be 
beaten  before  she  would  stop. 

"What  work  can  your  daughter  do?"  the 
Prince  asked. 

"  She  can  spin,  weave  and  sew,  and  do  every 
work  that  ever  a  woman  did,"  the  mother  re- 
plied. 

Now,  it  so  happened  that  a  twelvemonth 
before  the  Prince  had  taken  a  notion  of  marry- 
ing, and  his  mother,  anxious  he  should  have 
none  but  the  best  wife,  had,  with  his  approval, 
sent  messengers  over  all  Ireland  to  find  him  a 
woman  who  could  perform  all  a  woman's  du- 
ties, including  the  three  accomplishments  the 
widow  named — spinning,  that  is,  weaving  and 
sewing.  But  all  the  candidates  whom  the  mes- 
sengers had  secured  were  found  unsatisfactory 
on  being  put  to  trial,  and  the  Prince  had  re- 
mained unwedded.  When,  now,  the  King's  son 


The  Widow's  Daughter  59 

heard  this  account  of  Nabla  from  her  own 
mother  he  said : 

"  You  are  not  fit  to  have  the  charge  of  such  a 
good  girl.  For  twelve  months,  through  all 
parts  of  my  mother's  kingdom,  search  was  be- 
ing made  for  just  such  a  young  woman  that  she 
might  become  my  wife.  I'll  take  Nabla  with 
me. 

Poor  Nabla  was  rejoiced  and  her  mother  as- 
tonished. The  King's  son  helped  Nabla  to  a 
seat  behind  him  on  the  horse's  back  and  bidding 
adieu  to  the  widow  rode  off. 

When  he  had  got  Nabla  home,  he  introduced 
her  to  his  mother,  telling  the  Queen  that  by 
good  fortune  he  had  secured  the  very  woman 
they  had  so  long  sought  in  vain.  The  Queen 
asked  what  Nabla  could  do,  and  he  replied  that 
she  could  spin,  weave  and  sew,  and  do  every- 
thing else  a  woman  should ;  and,  moreover,  she 
was  so  eager  for  work  that  her  mother  was 
flailing  her  within  an  inch  of  her  life  to  make 
her  rest  herself  when  he  arrived  on  the  scene  at 
Nabla's  own  cottage.  The  Queen  said  that 
was  well. 

?he  took  Nabla  to  a  large  room  and  gave  her 


6o  In  Chimney  Corners 

a  heap  of  silk  and  a  golden  wheel,  and  told  her 
she  must  have  all  the  silk  spun  into  thread  in 
twenty-four  hours.     Then  she  bolted  her  in. 

Poor  Nabla,  in  amazement,  sat  looking  at  the 
big  heap  of  silk  and  the  golden  wheel.  And  at 
length  she  began  to  cry,  for  she  had  not  spun  a 
yard  of  thread  in  all  her  life.  As  she  cried  an 
ugly  woman,  having  one  of  her  feet  as  big  as  a 
bolster,  appeared  before  her. 

"  What  are  you  crying  for  ?  "  she  asked. 

Nabla  told  her,  and  the  woman  said,  "  I'll 
spin  the  silk  for  you  if  you  ask  me  to  the  wed- 
ding.'' 

"  ril  do  that,"  Nabla  said.  And  then  the 
woman  sat  down  to  the  wheel,  and  working  it 
with  her  big  foot,  very  soon  had  the  whole  heap 
spun. 

When  the  Queen  came  and  found  all  spun 
she  said :  "  That  is  good."  Then  she  brought 
in  a  golden  loom  and  told  Nabla  she  must  have 
all  that  thread  woven  in  twenty-four  hours. 

When  the  Queen  had  gone  Nabla  sat  down 
and  looked  from  the  thread  to  the  loom  and 
from  the  loom  to  the  thread,  wondering,  for  she 
had  not  in  all  her  life  even  thrown  a  shuttle.  At 


The  Widow's  Daughter  6i 

length  she  put  her  face  in  her  hands  and  began 
to  cry.  There  now  appeared  to  her  an  ugly 
woman  with  one  hand  as  big  as  a  pot  hanging 
by  her  side.  She  asked  Nabla  why  she  cried. 
Nabla  told  her,  and  then  the  woman  said, 

*'  I'll  weave  all  that  for  you  if  you'll  give  me 
the  promise  of  your  wedding." 

Nabla  said  she  would  surely.  So  the  woman 
sat  down  to  the  golden  loom,  and  very  soon  had 
all  the  thread  woven  into  webs. 

When  again  the  Queen  came  and  found  all 
woven  she  said:  'That  is  good."  And  then 
she  gave  Nabla  a  golden  needle  and  thimble  and 
said  that  in  twenty-four  hours  more  she  must 
have  all  the  webs  made  into  shirts  for  the 
Prince. 

Again  when  the  Queen  had  gone,  Nabla,  who 
had  never  even  threaded  a  needle  in  all  her  life, 
sat  for  a  while  looking  at  the  needle  and  thimble 
and  looking  at  the  webs  of  silk.  And  again  she 
broke  down,  and  began  to  cry  heartily. 

As  she  cried  an  ugly  woman  with  a  mons- 
trously big  nose  came  into  the  room  and  asked : 

"Why  do  you  cry?*' 


62  In  Chimney  Corners 

When  Nabla  had  told  her,  the  ugly  woman 
said : 

"  I'll  make  up  all  those  webs  into  shirts  for 
the  Prince  if  you  promise  me  the  wedding." 

"  I'll  do  that,"  Nabla  said,  "  and  a  thousand 
welcomes." 

So  the  woman  with  the  big  nose,  taking  the 
needle  and  thimble,  sat  down,  and  in  a  short 
time  had  made  all  the  silk  into  shirts  and  dis- 
appeared again. 

When  the  Queen  came  a  third  time  and 
found  all  the  silk  made  up  in  shirts  she  was 
mightily  pleased  and  said : 

"  You  are  the  very  woman  for  my  son,  for 
he'll  never  want  a  housekeeper  while  he  has 
you." 

Then  Nabla  and  the  Prince  were  betrothed, 
and  on  the  wedding  night  there  was  a  gay  and  a 
gorgeous  company  in  the  hall  of  the  Castle.  All 
was  mirth  and  festivity.  But  as  they  were 
about  to  sit  down  to  a  splendid  repast  there  was 
a  loud  knock  at  the  door.  A  servant  opened  it 
and  there  came  in  an  ugly  old  woman  with  one 
foot  as  big  as  a  pot  who,  amid  the  loud  laughter 
of  the  company,  hobbled  up  the  floor  and  took  a 


The  Widow's  Daughter         63 

seat  at  the  table.  She  was  asked  of  which  party 
was  she,  the  bride  or  the  groom's,  and  she  re- 
pUed  that  she  was  of  the  bride's  party.  When 
the  Prince  heard  this  he  beUeved  that  she  was 
one  of  Nabla's  poor  friends.  He  went  up  to 
her  and  asked  her  what  had  made  her  foot  so 
big.  "  Spinning,"  she  said,  ''  I  have  been  all 
my  life  at  the  wheel,  and  that's  what  it  has  done 
for  me."  "  Then,  by  my  word,"  said  the 
Prince,  striking  the  table  a  great  blow,  "  my 
wife  shall  not  turn  a  wheel  while  I'm  here  to 
prevent  it ! " 

As  the  party  were  again  settling  themselves 
another  knock  came  to  the  door.  A  servant 
opening  it,  let  in  a  woman  with  one  hand  as  big 
as  a  stool.  The  weight  of  this  hand  hanging 
by  her  side  gave  her  body  a  great  lean  over,  so 
that  as  she  hobbled  up  the  floor  the  company  at 
the  table  lay  back,  laughing  and  clapping  their 
hands  at  the  funny  sight.  This  woman,  taking 
a  seat  at  the  table,  was  asked  by  whose  invita- 
tion she  was  there,  to  which  she  replied  that  she 
was  of  the  bride's  party.  Then  the  Prince  went 
up  to  her  and  inquired  what  caused  her  hand  to 
be  so  big. 


64  In  Chimney  Corners 

"  Weaving,"  she  said.  "  I  have  slaved  at 
the  shuttle  all  my  life;  that's  what  has  come  on 
me. 

"  Then/'  the  Prince  said,  striking  the  table  a 
thundering  blow,  "by  my  word,  my  wife  shall 
never  throw  a  shuttle  again  while  I  live  to  pre- 
vent it." 

A  third  time  the  company  were  ready  to  be- 
gin their  repast,  when  again  there  came  a  knock 
to  the  door.  Every  one  looked  up;  and  they 
saw  the  servant  now  admit  an  ugly  old  woman 
with  the  most  monstrous  nose  ever  beheld. 
This  woman  likewise  took  a  chair  at  the  table. 
She  was  then  asked  who  had  invited  her — the 
bride  or  the  groom.  She  said  she  was  one  of 
the  bride's  party.  Then  the  Prince,  going  up 
to  her,  asked  her  why  her  nose  had  come  to  be 
so  very  big. 

"  It's  with  sewing,"  she  said.  "  All  my  life 
I  have  been  bending  my  head  over  sewing,  so 
that  every  drop  of  blood  ran  down  into  my 
nose,  swelling  it  out  like  that." 

Then  the  Prince  struck  the  table  a  blow  that 
made  the  dishes  leap  and  rattle. 

"By  my  word,"  he  said,  "my  wife  shall 


The  Widow's  Daughter         65 

never  either  put  a  needle  in  cloth  again  or  do 
any  other  sort  of  household  work  while  I  live 
to  prevent  it." 

And  the  Prince  faithfully  kept  his  word.  He 
was  always  on  the  lookout  to  try  and  catch 
Nabla  spinning,  weaving  or  sewing,  or  doing 
any  other  sort  of  work,  for  he  thought  she 
might  at  any  time  try  to  work  on  the  sly. 

Poor  Nabla,  however,  never  did  anything  to 
confirm  his  uneasiness,  but,  taking  her  old 
mother  to  stop  in  the  Castle  with  her,  lived 
happy  and  contented,  and  as  lazy  as  the  day 
was  long,  ever  after. 


Shan  Ban  and  Ned  Flynn 


SHAN  BAN  AND  NED  FLYNN 


Shan  Ban  and  Ned  Flynn  were  neighbour- 
ing farmers  that  wrought  hard  on  their  wee 
bits  of  farms  to  support  themselves  and  their 
wives — but  that  same  was  more  nor  they  could 
do ;  so  says  Shan  Ban  to  Ned  Flynn  one  day, 
"Ned,"  says  he,  "what  do  ye  think  if  we  start 
off  to  push  our  fortunes,  and  leave  our  wives 
to  look  out  for  themselves  for  a  while?" 
"Why,  I  think,"  says  Ned,  says  he,  "it  wouldn't 
be  a  bad  idea  at  all."  No  sooner  sayed  than 
done,  off  both  of  them  starts,  and  away  afore 
them  to  push  their  fortunes.  They  thra veiled 
away  for  the  length  of  a  day,  without  meeting 
with  anything  remarkable,  and  long  afther 
night  fell  on  them  they  were  still  wanderin'  on 
when  Shan  sees  a  light  away  from  him,  and 
"Ned,"  says  he,  "I  think  we'll  dhraw  on  that 
light."  Well  and  good,  on  the  light  they 
69 


JO  In  Chimney  Corners 

dhrew,  and  when  they  come  there,  they  found 
the  light  was  shining  from  a  great  castle,  and 
in  they  went  to  the  castle,  and  finding  or  seeing 
no  one  there,  they  wandhered  on  through  it 
from  room  to  room,  dum  foundered  with  all  the 
gorgeous  grandeur,  goold  an'  silver,  they  saw 
everywhere.  At  last  they  come  to  a  great  din- 
ing-room, with  a  great  dinner  entirely,  of  all 
sorts  of  the  richest  and  grandest,  and  nicest 
eating  and  drinking  spread  out  on  the  tables. 
"Come,  help  ourselves,"  says  Shan,  "we'll  line 
our  insides  anyhow."  "A  good  job,"  says  Ned; 
and  both  of  them  fell  to,  and  made  a  hearty 
meal.  Then  all  at  once  they  heard  music  and 
the  tramping  of  feet  coming  tor'st  them.  "We'll 
have  to  hide,"  says  Shan;  and  "I  think  it's 
best,"  says  Ned.  So  both  of  them  took  and  hid 
themselves  under  a  sofa  where  they  couldn't  be 
seen.  Ned  wasn't  right  under  the  sofa  when  he 
was  fast  asleep  by  reason  of  the  big  dinner  he 
ate.  But  Shan  kept  wide  awake,  and  peeping 
out  through  a  little  hole  in  the  sofa  cloth  could 
see  all  that  was  going  on.  Into  the  room  came 
a  company  of  five  hundred  fairies,  little  men 
and  women,  all  grandly  dressed  in  every  colour 


Shan  Ban  and  Ned  Flynn    71 

of  silks  and  satins  and  ribbons,  with  forty  little 
pipers  playing  before  them,  and  they  dancing 
along  behind  with  their  hands  caught.  When 
they  come  in,  the  forty  pipers  played  three  times 
round  the  dinner  table  till  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pany bowed  to  one  another  and  got  saited,  and 
then  the  pipers  laid  aside  their  pipes  and  sat 
down  themselves.  Afther  they  had  made  a 
good  dinner  the  decanthers  of  all  sorts  of 
whiskies  and  wines  and  rare  drinks  was  put  on 
the  table,  and  then  the  little  man  that  sat  at  the 
head  give  it  out  that  every  one  present  would 
have  to  sing  a  song,  crack  a  joke,  or  tell  a  good 
tale.  And  round  the  table  at  once  went  the 
singing  and  the  joking  and  the  telling  of  the 
stories.  Says  one  of  the  fairies,  "I'll  tell  a 
good  story;"  and  he  begun  to  tell  how  the 
King's  daughter  was  lying  very  ill,  and  all  the 
great  doctors  of  the  country  was  attending  to 
her;  but  it  was  all  no  use,  for  she  was  pining 
away  day  afther  day  under  the  fairies'  spells, 
and  there  was  nothing  in  the  world  could  save 
her  except  three  mouthfuls  of  the  dandylion 
which  grew  on  the  Grey  Forth,  and  which  had 
the  virtue  of  curing  all  diseases.      Shan  Ban's 


72  In  Chimney  Corners 

heart  jumped  when  he  heard  this,  and  he  waited 
patiently  till,  when  day  was  going  to  break,  the 
pipers  got  up  and  took  their  pipes,  and  the  com- 
pany got  up,  and  the  pipers  played  afore  them 
out  of  the  room,  and  the  fairies  danced  out 
afther.  Then  Shan  wakened  up  Ned,  and  tak- 
ing him  with  him  went  out  and  up  the  Grey 
Forth,  plucked  the  dandylion  that  grew  there, 
never  letting  on  to  Ned  what  he  meant 
by  it,  and  both  of  them  started  away  for 
the  King's  palace.  When  they  were  come  there 
they  knocked,  and  the  sarvints  axed  thmi  what 
they  wanted,  and  Shan  said  he  had  come  to  try 
and  cure  the  King's  daughter.  The  sarvints  of 
course  only  laughed  at  Shan,  but  the  King  hear- 
ing of  him  ordered  him  to  be  brought  up.  And 
when  Shan  was  brought  up  into  the  princess's 
bed-chamber  there  that  place  was  filled  with  great 
doctors,  and  when  they  heard  Shan  was  coming 
to  try  to  cure  the  princess  they  laughed  hearty. 
But  the  King  said  they  had  their  try  and 
made  nothing  of  it,  and  that  Shan  Ban  might 
as  well  get  his  try,  for  he  couldn't  have  worse 
luck  nor  them  anyhow.  Then  Shan  ordered 
all  the  doctors  out  of  the  room,  and  giving  the 


Shan  Ban  and  Ned  Flynn        73 

princess  one  mouthful  of  the  dandylion  she  got 
great  aise  entirely,  then  he  gave  her  another 
mouthful,  and  she  felt  a  deal  better  still ;  then  he 
gave  her  the  third  mouthful,  and  she  was  com- 
pletely cured.  There  was  great  rejoicement  en- 
tirely at  this,  and  the  King  in  particular  was  be- 
side himself  with  delight  and  offered  Shan  Ban 
the  prencess  in  marriage.  But  Shan  wouldn't 
have  her  on  no  account,  for  he  said  he  wouldn't 
part  his  wife  Molly  at  home  for  all  the  prin- 
cesses in  the  world,  no  matter  how  beautiful 
they  might  be.  Then  the  King  filled  two  bags, 
one  with  goold  and  the  other  with  silver,  and 
give  them  to  Shan.  When  Shan  got  outside  the 
castle  he  handed  the  two  bags  to  Ned  and  told 
him  to  take  them  home  with  him,  and  give  his 
(Shan's)  wife  the  bag  of  goold  and  keep  the 
bag  of  silver  for  himself ;  and  that  he  wouldn't 
go  home  himself  till  he  would  thravel  further 
and  see  were  there  any  more  adventures.  Then 
both  of  them  parted,  Ned  for  home  with  the 
bags  of  money  and  Shan  travelling  away  fur- 
ther before  him.  Shan  travelled  on  that  day  till 
at  night  falling  he  was  getting  into  a  wood, 
when  what  does  he  see  sitting  on  a  sycamore 


74  In  Chimney  Corners 

leaf  but  the  identical  same  little  fairy  that  told 
at  the  supper  the  story  about  the  King's 
daughter.  "  Shan  Ban,  Shan  Ban,"  says  the 
little  fellow,  "you  hid  and  listened  to  our  stories 
the  other  night  and  heard  me  tell  the  secret  of 
the  King's  daughter  and  the  dandylion  on  the 
Grey  Forth,  and  then  ye  went  and  cured  the 
princess.  What  did  ye  do  that  for?"  ''Well, 
small  blame  to  me,"  says  Shan,  "I  had  to  hide, 
and  I  couldn't  help  hearing  yer  story;  and 
sure  rd  be  an  onnatural  man,  out  and  out, 
if  I  didn't  save  the  poor  princess's  life  when 
I  had  it  in  my  power  to  do  it  so  aisy.  Small 
blame  to  me,  I  say  again,"  says  Shan.  "  Well, 
that's  surely  true,"  says  the  fairy,  "  but 
that's  a  mighty  great  saicret,  that  about  the 
dandylion,  and  if  it  got  out  it's  I  would  be 
blamed  for  it,  and, I  would  never  hear  the  last 
of  it  nor  get  any  living  afther  from  the  rest  of 
the  fairies,  and  I  would  be  made  a  miserable 
devil  entirely."  "Well,  if  that's  so,"  says  John, 
"the  saicret's  a  saicret  yet,  for  man  or  mortial 
didn't  hear  it  from  me ;  and  if  it's  a  consolation 
to  ye  I  promise  ye  it'll  be  so."  Thanky,  very 
much,"  says  the  fairy;  "it's  certainly  a  conso- 


Shan  Ban  and  Ned  Flynn        75 

lation  and  a  great  one,  and  I  know  I  may  de- 
pend on  yer  promise.  And,  when  you're  so 
mighty  kind,  Shan  Ban,"  says  he,  'Til  be 
every  bit  as  kind.  Here's  a  napkin  for  ye  that 
ye  have  only  to  spread  it  out  and  wish  for  what 
ye  Uke,  and  as  much  as  ye  Hke,  of  aitables  and 
drinkables,  and  immediately  they  will  be  placed 
on  it.  And  here's  a  wishing  cap,"  says  he,  "ye 
have  only  to  put  on  yer  head  and  wish  to  be  any 
place  in  the  world  ye  like,  and  immediately  ye'U 
be  there.  And  here's  a  purse  filled  with  money, 
that  no  matther  how  much  ye  take  out  of  it  it 
will  never  get  empty."  He  handed  over  to 
Shan  the  napkin,  the  wishing  cap,  and  the 
purse,  and  then  disappeared  without  even  wait- 
ing to  be  thanked.  Shan  w^as  feeling  just  hun- 
gry enough,  and  he  spread  out  the  napkin  to  try 
it.  He  wished  for  a  nice  supper  for  himself, 
and,  lo  and  behold  ye!  all  at  once  there 
was  the  rarest  supper,  aiting  and  drink- 
ing, ever  he  laid  his  two  eyes  on,  spread 
on  the  napkin.  He  ate  and  drunk  heartily, 
and  then  spread  himself  out  under  the 
trees  to  sleep.  In  the  morning  Shan  got  up  and 
-spread  his  napkin  and  wished  for  a  breakwus. 


76  In  Chimney  Corners 

and  had  the  finest  of  aiting  and  drinking  again, 
his  hearty  fill,  and  then  he  set  off  on  his  journey 
once  more.  Tor'st  evening  he  was  travel- 
ling in  a  very  bare  and  barren  country,  without 
any  people,  or  anything  growing  that  a  man 
could  ate,  or  anything  flowing  that  a  man 
could  drink.  And  here,  as  he  spread  his 
napkin  and  had  a  beautiful  dinner  on  it, 
who  should  come  up  to  him,  weary  and  worn, 
but  a  piper:  and  John  axed  him  to  sit 
down  and  help  him  with  dinner.  Nothing 
loath,  down  the  piper  sat,  for  he  was 
most  dead  with  the  hunger;  and  both  of  them 
ate  as  good  a  dinner  as  ever  they  ate  in  their 
lives  afore.  When  they  were  finished  the  piper 
pulled  out  a  horn,  and  commenced  to  play  his 
pipes,  and  four  hundred  thousand  troopers — 
Light  Dhragoons,  Heavy  Dhragoons,  Rus- 
sians, Grenadiers,  and  Kilties — come  troopin' 
out  of  the  horn,  and  begun  dancing  to  the  mu- 
sic. Then  the  piper  told  Shan  he  was  under 
great  distress  entirely,  because  for  the  last  five 
days,  being  in  this  barren  country,  he  hadn't  a 
bit  to  put  in  the  mouths  of  his  troopers,  and 
they  were  dying  with  hunger.  Then  says  Shan, 


Shan  Ban  and  Ned  Flynn        'jy 

"I'll  soon  relieve  them,"  and  he  spread  his  nap- 
kin and  wished  for  aiting  and  drinking  for  four 
hundred  thousand  troopers,  and  immaidiately 
it  was  on  the  napkin,  and  the  troopers  all  ate 
and  drunk  to  their  satisfaction,  and  went  in  to 
the  hom  again.  ''Well,  says  the  piper,  "that 
is  a  wondherful  great  napkin  entirely,  and  I 
wouldn't  care  if  I  had  it  instead  of  my  hom  of 
troopers — for  what  use  are  they  to  me  if  I  can't 
feed  them  ?"  'I'll  swap  with  ye,  the  napkin  for 
the  horn,"  says  Shan.  "Done,"  says  the  piper, 
and  handing  over  to  Shan  the  horn,  he  took  the 
napkin  and  started  off.  But  when  my  brave 
Shan  found  himself  in  possession  of  the  horn 
and  four  hundred  thousand  troopers  he  axed 
himself  how  was  he  going  to  get  them  fed  at 
all,  at  all.  And  says  he,  "If  I  only  had  the  nap- 
kin now  to  feed  them  I'd  be  a  happy  man."  At 
once  he  ordhered  the  troopers  out  of  the  horn, 
and  they  come  tumbling  out.  Light  Dhragoons, 
Heavy  Dhragoons,  Russians,  Grenadiers,  and 
Kilties,  and  away  he  sent  them  after  the  piper 
to  take  the  napkin  from  him.  And  when  they 
brought  Shan  the  napkin  he  ordered  them  again 
into  their  hom,  and  said  he'd  now  go  for  home. 


yS  In  Chimney  Corners 

So  he  put  the  wishing  cap  on  his  head  and 
wished  to  be  home.  And  when  he  got  there 
and  looked  about  him  he  couldn't  know  it  was 
the  same  country  at  all,  at  all,  for  there,  in  the 
place  where  Ned  Flynn's  house  used  to  be,  was 
a  great  castle  with  gardens,  and  lawns,  and 
parks  all  round  it.  He  come  up  to  the  door  of 
his  own  house,  and  Molly  was  the  glad  woman 
to  see  him  back.  "And  what,"  says  he  to 
Molly,  "is  the  meanin'  of  that  great  castle  where 
Ned  Flynn's  cabin  used  to  be?"  "Oh,"  says 
Molly,  says  she,  "sure  Ned  Flynn  was  away,  no 
one  knows  where,  pushing  his  fortune,  and  he 
come  home  with  no  end  of  bags  of  money  with 
him,  and  had  up  that  grand  castle  and  all  them 
parks  and  lawns  before  ye'd  have  time  to  look 
about  ye.  He's  now  very  rich  entirely,  and, 
doesn't  know  his  own  wealth."  "And  Molly,'' 
says  Shan,  "was  he  any  way  kind  to  you 
when  he  come  back  with  so  much  money, 
or  did  he  make  ye  ever  a  present ?"  "Kind!" 
says  Molly;  "kind's  no  name  for  it.  He 
give  me  five  shillings  the  day  afther  he 
come  home,  and  has  ordhered  me  an'  allowance 
of  half-a-crown  a  week  ever  since."  Says  Shan, 


Shan  Ban  and  Ned  Flynn    79 

"I  must  set  off  to  see  him."  "Oh,  no,  ahaslcy, 
Shan/'  says  Molly,  ye  couldn't  go  to  see  him  in 
them  old  clothes,  or  he'd  ordher  you  to  be  shot." 
But  Shan  set  off  to  Ned  Flynn's  castle,  and 
when  he  was  come  there  he  inquired  of  the  ser- 
vants to  see  Lord  Flynn.  But  they  told  him 
they  couldn't  let  him  into  his  lordship's  pres- 
ence at  all,  at  all,  in  such  old  clothes  as  he  had 
on  him.  But  Lord  Flynn  heard  that  Shan  Ban 
was  at  the  door  wanting  to  get  in  to  see  him, 
and  he  ordhered  the  servants  to  let  him  in  and 
bring  him  upstairs  to  him.  He  shook  hands 
heartily  with  Shan,  and  said  he  was  glad  to  see 
him  home  again.  John  thanked  him,  and  said 
his  wife,  Molly,  was  telling  him  that  he  had 
been  very  good  to  her,  and  he  thanked  him  en- 
tirely for  this.  Then  Lord  Flynn  said  he  was 
going  to  give  a  great  ball,  and,  to  show  he  had 
no  ill-will  again'  Shan,  axed  himself  and  his 
wife  to  come  to  it.  Shan  and  Molly  attended  the 
ball,  and  then  axed  Lord  Flynn  and  his  wife  to 
come  to  their  house  to  a  ball  next  night.  When 
Shan  got  home,  says  Molly  to  him,  says  she, 
"Shan,  do  ye  intend  enthertaining  Lord  Flynt 
and  his  wife?     Sure  ye  haven't  a  proper  house 


8o  In  Chimney  Corners 

to  take  them  to ;  nor  ye  have  no  money  to  buy 
provisions  to  enthertain  them  properly."  ''Oh, 
we'll  soon  rightify  that,"  says  Shan.  He  took 
out  the  purse  and  covered  the  floor  with  gold, 
and  filled  up  a  room  full  of  it.  He  then  ordhered 
out  his  four  hundred  thousand  troopers  out  of 
the  horn,  and  set  them  to  work  building  a  great 
castle,  and  before  the  next  night  he  had  the 
castle  up,  and  all  its  walls  lined  with  silver,  and 
its  floors  of  beaten  gold,  and  he  had  a  gold  walk 
right  from  the  door  of  it  to  Lord  Flynn's  castle. 
And  when  Lord  Flynn  and  his  wife  come  they 
were  all  in  wondherment  and  didn't  know  what 
to  make  of  it  at  all.  And  Shan  Ban  and  Molly 
welcomed  them,  and  they  dressed  up  in  the  most 
gorgeous  dresses,  and  Molly  with  two  diamonds 
hanging  from  her  ears,  the  size  of  turf.  Then 
there  was  no  end  of  sarvints  in  waiting,  and  the 
napkin  was  spread,  and  Shan  wished  for  the 
grandest  supper  that  ever  was,  and  immediately 
the  grandest  that  ever  was  seen,  afore  or  since, 
was  before  them.  And  when  Lord  Flynn  got 
home,  he  sent  a  messenger  to  the  King  to  tell 
him  of  the  wondherful  napkin  Shan  Ban  had, 
and  that  it  would  be  of  great  sarvice  to  th^ 


Shan  Ban  and  Ned  Flynn        8 1 

King  in  times  of  war,  and  axed  the  King 
to  send  his  sojers  for  it.  So  the  King 
sent  thirty  sojers  to  demand  the  napkin 
of  Shan;  but  Shan  turned  out  sixty 
sojers  out  of  his  horn  who  fell  on  the 
King's  sojers  and  killed  them  all  but  one,  who 
went  home  and  told  the  King.  Then  the  King 
sent  ten  thousand  troopers;  but  Shan  turned 
fifty  thousand  troopers  out  of  the  horn,  and 
killed  all  the  King's  men  to  one,  again. 
Then  the  King  sent  a  hundred  thousand 
troopers;  and  Shan  now  turned  out  of 
the  horn  his  four  hundred  thousand 
troopers — Light  Dhragoons,  Heavy  Dhra- 
goons,  Russians,  Grenadiers,  and  Kilties, 
and  they  fell  on  the  King's  men,  and  not 
one  of  them  at  all,  at  all,  escaped  this  time. 
Then  the  King  come  to  parley  with  Shan,  and 
he  made  paice  with  him,  and  said  it  was  Lord 
Flynn  who  had  told  him  about  the  napkin,  and 
put  him  up  to  taking  it  from  Shan.  So  Shan 
once  again  turned  out  his  troopers — ^Light 
Dhragoons,  Heavy  Dhragoons,  Hussians, 
Grenadiers,  and  Kilties — and  ordhered  them  up 
to  Lord  Flynn' s  to  blow  up  his  castle  and  not 


82  In  Chimney  Corners 

lay  a  trace  of  him  or  his  on  the  earth.  And 
this  they  did,  and  Lord  Flynn  and  his  wife  were 
killed,  and  Shan  Ban  and  Molly,  spent  the  re- 
mainder of  their  days  ever  afther  in  paice  and 
plinty. 


When  Neil  a-Mughan  was  Tuk 


WHEN  NEIL  A-MUGHAN  WAS 
TUK 


We  had  been  in  the  middle  of  our  story-tell- 
in',  with  all  our  seats  drawn  close  together 
round  Shemishin's  big  hearth  fire.  The  storm 
of  rain  and  sleet  without  gave  us  no  bother, 
only  made  us  enjoy  the  comfort  of  the  big  fire, 
and  the  great  stories,  far  more  keenly.  But  in 
the  middle  of  an  excitin'  story  of  Paudeen 
Mor's — a  fearful  adventure  of  his  in  the  wilds 
of  Georgia,  when  he  was  carrying  the  pack 
there,  the  latch  rattled,  and  the  door  burst  open, 
and  into  the  middle  of  the  floor  stepped  a  man, 
with  a  scared  look  on  his  face,  and  out  of  whose 
clinging  clothes,  streams  of  water  were  run- 
ning, and  pouring  over  the  floor.  The  wet  hair 
came  down  his  brows  and  fell  in  wet  tongues, 
and  streams  were  running  from  it.  His  hat  leaf 
drooped  over  all  like  a  limp  rag. 

"God  bliss  all  here!"  he  said. 
85 


86  In  Chimney  Corners 

''And  yerself  likewise,"  we  said,  when  we  got 
our  breaths. 

'  "Thank  God!"  said  he  from  his  heart.  'Ifs 
me  is  the  glad  man  to  get  a  Christian  roof  over 
me  head.    I've  been  tuk." 

''What?    By  the  fairies?  On  such  a  night?" 

"The  fairies,"  Shemishin  said,  rebuking  us, 
"wouldn't  take  any  Christun  on  such  a  night." 

"They  wouldn't,"  said  the  stranger,  "and 
didn't.    I  was  tuk  by  Willie-the-Wisp." 

"God  help  ye,  poor  man,"  Shemishin  said, 
"ye  had  a  narrow  escape."  And,  "God  help  ye, 
poor  man,"  we  all  said,  and  made  room  for 
him  amongst  us. 

"I'm  Neil  a-Mughan  of  Tievahurkey,"  said 
he.  "I  was  comin'  from  Donegal  where  I  was  in 
payin'  the  rent  to  Misther  Martin.  It  was 
mortial  dark  an'  I  feared  I'd  lose  me  way.  Two 
mile  back  I  seen  the  light  in  from  me,  an'  I 
dhrew  on  it  thinkin'  of  course  it  was  a  house. 
An'  as  I  stumbled  on,  it  seemed  farther  and 
farther  away.  I  was  gettin'  deeper  in  the  mire 
at  every  step  I  tuk,  but  I  sthruggled  on  for  the 
dear  life  to  reach  that  light.  I  darsay  it  tuk 
me  a  long  mile,  among  such  marshes  and  bog- 


When  Neil  a-Mughan  was  Tuk  87 

holes  that  only  God  willed  it,  and  I  had  some 
poor  body's  prayer  about  me,  I  couldn't  have 
escaped  with  the  life.  Three  times  runnin'  I 
was  steppin'  intil  a  bog-hole  when  somethin' 
(I  thought)  toul'  me  not  to  lay  down  me  foot 
— I  held  it  back,  and  looked,  and  the  black  bot- 
tomless wather  lay  right  at  me  toe — " 

''Musha,  God  was  by  ye." 

''He  was.  Thanks  be  till  Him,  this  night." — 

"Amen!   Amen!" 

"Well,  when  I'd  gone  the  full  mile,  an'  seen 
I  was  only  gettin'  more  hopelesser  into  the  bog, 
it  sthruck  me  like  a  flash  that  it  was  no  other 
nor  Willie-the-Wisp,  and  all  at  wanst,  I  seen 
how  I'd  been  deluded  and  a'most  lost.  But 
there  I  was  in  the  middle  of  a  black  threacher- 
ous  bog  in  a  night  as  sleety  and  wet  as  sorra, 
and  as  dark  as  the  inside  of  a  cow,  an'  where 
the  next  step  might  mean  death.  I  turned,  as 
nearly  as  I  could  think,  in  the  same  direction  I 
had  come — an'  yous  may  take  my  word  for  it 
that  I  was  prayin'  faster  nor  I  was  used  to.  If 
I  have  any  idea  of  time  that's  two  solid  hours 
ago — and  here  I  am  now !  This  is  the  first  sign 
of  Christianity  I've  seen.    How  I  got  out  of  the 


88  In  Chimney  Corners 

bog  is  more  nor  I  can  tell  meself — only  I  know 
God  (praise  be  till  Him!)  was  guidin'  me 
steps/' 

Poor  Norah,  when  she  recovered  sufficiently 
from  the  shock  of  both  the  stranger's  appear- 
ance, and  his  story,  warmed  him  a  skillet  of 
milk,  and  literally  insisted  on  pouring  it  down 
the  poor  fellow's  throat  when  it  must  have  felt 
like  so  much  molten  lead.  But  Norah  would 
hear  of  no  remonstrance,  and  Shemishin, 
equally  well-intentioned,  stood  by  and  held  the 
victim. 

Neil  a-Mughan  survived.  Then  Norah  turned 
Patrick  Burns's  only  sons  Charlie  and  Ned  out 
of  the  chimney-corner  in  which  they  squatted, 
and  stuck  Neil  into  it — "till  the  hait  gets  in 
about  yer  heart,"  she  said,  "and  dhrives  all  the 
sleet  out  of  yer  bones."  She  put  on  what  she 
called  "a  pitcher  of  tay,"  for  him,  then  but- 
tered several  large  fadges  of  oaten  bread,  and 
boiled  four  eggs  hard,  and  gave  all  to  him  in 
the  corner. 

Neil  felt  a  new  man  as  he  got  around  these; 
and  by  sympathy  our  spirits  got  higher,  too, 
and  we  felt  in  the  mood  to  hear  Shemishin 


When  Neil  a-Mughan  was  Tuk  89 

(than  whom  there  were  few  better  fitted  to  do 
it)  give  us  the  story  of  WilHe-the-Wisp,  and 
the  reason  for  his  wanderings,  and  his  evil 
tricks  upon  travellers : — 

In  the  grand  old  times,  long,  long  ago,  there 
was  wanst  a  blacksmith,  and  his  name  was 
Willie — and  he  was  notorious  over  all  Ireland 
for  the  dhrinkin*  sportin'  way  he  spent  all  of 
his  life — and  it  was  often  and  often  prophesied 
for  him  that  he'd  never  come  till  a  good  ending. 
He  had  come  of  good  family,  and  besides  his 
thrade — which  was  in  them  days,  a  profession 
for  a  gentleman — his  people  had  left  to  him 
great  properties  both  in  houses  and  in  lands. 
But  all  these  properties  Willie  very  soon  dhrunk 
and  sported  away, — and  all  melted  like  snow  in 
summer.  When  it  come  to  that  he  had  only  his 
trade,  Willie  had  purty  hard  times  of  it ;  for  he 
didn't  want  to  work,  and  he  didn't  care  to 
starve, — and  he  found  it  purtikilarly  hard 
to  have  no  money  to  sport  and  spend, 
as  he  was  used  to  do.  He  worked  as 
little  as  he  could,  but  he  wanted  as 
much    as    ever;    so  things  went    on    from 


90  In  Chimney  Corners 

bad  to  worse,  and  his  chances  of  thrade 
even  was  laivin'  him,  for  no  man  could  be  sartin 
whether  he'd  obHge  them  or  refuse  them  (ac- 
cordingly as  the  mood  was  on  him)  when 
they'd  bring  a  horse  to  shoe,  or  a  plough  to 
mend.  And  at  long  and  at  last  wan  mornin' 
that  he  had  got  no  breakfast,  bekase  he  had 
neither  money  nor  means,  he  was  standin'  lean- 
in'  against  his  own  forge  doore,  with  his  heart 
in  his  boots,  when  what  should  come  up  the 
road  but  a  poor  miserable  lookin'  old  fella  with 
a  pair  of  broken  pot-hooks  in  his  hand  and, 
"Good  man,"  says  he  to  Willie,  would  ye  mind 
doin*  a  little  job  for  me,  and  mendin'  these  pot- 
hooks?" Willie  was  in  ill-humour  for  workin'; 
but  with  all  his  faults  he  had  always  a  soft  spot 
for  the  poor  somewhere  or  other  in  his  heart. 
So  when  he  looks  at  the  little  ragged  man  and 
his  broken  pot-hooks  for  a  minute,  he  says, 
"Step  inside,"  an'  takin'  the  pieces  out  of  the 
old  man's  hand,  he  blew  up  the  fire,  an'  very 
soon  made  the  pot-hooks  all  right  again.  "How 
much  for  that?"  says  the  wee  old  man.  But 
Willie  was  mad  with  him  for  mentionin'  a 
charge.    "Well  thanky,  thanky,"  says  the  wee 


When  Neil  a-Mughan  was  Tuk  91 

fella,  'It's  little  money  I'd  have  to  ofifer  ye  any- 
how. But  since  ye  are  so  kind-hearted  I'll  not 
laive  ye  without  givin'  ye  some  reward.  Ax 
me,"  says  he,  "for  any  three  requests  ye  like — 
barrin'  money  or  money's  worth,  an'  I'll  give 
them  to  ye."  Willie  at  wanst  seen  that  he  was 
dailin'  with  a  fairy.  "Well,"  says  Willie, 
"there's  a  lot  of  lazy  loungers  comes  about  me 
house  an'  forge,  an'  annoy  me  tarribly  throwin' 
me  sledge,  an'  sittin'  themselves  down  in  me 
armchair,  an'  sometimes  even  bein'  so  dishonest 
as  to  pick  the  very  money  out  of  me  purse — 
when  there's  any  in  it.  So  I  wish,"  says  Willie, 
"first  that  anywan  ever  takes  up  that  sledge 
cannot  laive  it  down  again  without  I  let  them ; 
and  I  wish  anywan  sits  down  in  my  armchair 
mayn't  be  able  to  rise  from  it,  till  I  allow  them : 
and  I  wish  that  once  a  piece  of  money  goes  into 
my  purse,  it  can't  get  out  again  till  I  take  it 
out."  "  Yer  wishes  is  granted,  Willie,"  says  tha 
wee  old  man,  "an'  I'm  sorry  ye  didn't  wish  for 
health,  happiness,  and  Heaven,"  and  he  went 
away. 

Then  Willie  was  standin*  leanin*  in  his  forge- 
doore  again  ruminatin'  over  it  all,  and  feelin' 


92  In  Chimney  Corners 

far  more  down-hearted  than  afore,  when  all  at 
wanst  he  hears  the  noise  of  hoofs,  and  up  there 
rides  a  grand  gentleman  entirely  mounted  on  a 
great  black  charger.  And  *'Helloa,  Willie,"  says 
he,  "what  are  ye  so  down  in  the  mouth  about 
this  mornin'?  Ye  look  as  lorn  as  a  March 
graveyard."  "Small  wonder  I  would,"  says  Wil- 
lie, says  he.  "And  if  you  had  the  same  raison 
it's  not  such  a  spruce  jaunty  lookin'  gentleman 
you'd  be  this  mornin'."  "I'm  mortial  sorry  for 
ye  Willie,"  says  the  gentleman.  "Can  I  help 
ye?"  "I  dar'say  ye  could;  but  I  don't  expect 
ye  would,"  says  Willie.  "Don't  be  so  sartin  of 
that,"  says  the  gentleman — "What  is  it  ye 
need?"  "Money,"  says  Willie,  "an'  plenty  of 
it."  "How  much  of  it?"  says  the  gentleman. 
"Och,  a  roomful,"  says  Willie  that  way,  care- 
less. "Well,  a  roomful,"  says  the  gentleman, 
says  he,  "you'll  have, — on  wan  condition." 
"And  what  is  the  condition  ?"  says  Willie,  says 
he,  brightenin'  up.  "It's  this,"  says  the  gentle- 
man, "that  you'll  consent  to  give  yerself  to  me 
and  come  with  me  in  seven  years  and  a 
iay  from  now."  At  this  Willie's  eye 
went    down    and    caught    sight    of    one    of 


When  Neil  a-Mughan  was  Tuk  93 

the  gentleman's  feet  an'  he  seen  it  was 
cloven.  "Phew!"  says  Willie,  says  he, 
**is  that  how  the  hare  sits?"  'It's  a 
grand  offer,"  says  the  gentleman.  "Just  this 
minute  ye  were  plannin'  how  ye'd  do  away  with 
yerself.  It's  cowl'  comfort  to  go  out  of  the 
wurrl'  on  a  hungry  belly.  Here  ye  have  the 
offer  of  a  roomful  of  money,  an'  a  whole  year 
to  spend  and  sport  it.  Think  of  all  the  fun  ye'd 
get  out  of  a  roomful  of  money  in  twelvemonths 
and  a  day !"  "Thrue  for  ye,"  says  Willie :  "it's 
a  bargain." 

Without  another  word  then,  the  Devil  filled 
with  goold  the  biggest  room  in  Willie's  house. 
"And  now,"  says  he,  "good-bye,  and  be  ready 
for  me  in  seven  years  and  a  day  from  now." 
"I'll  be  ready,"  says  Willie. 

Willie  had  a  gay  and  a  rollickin'  time  and  no 
mistake,  afther  that,  for  the  seven  years  and  a 
day.  He  made  the  money  spin,  as  it  was  never 
afore  known  to  spin  in  Ireland.  He 
come  to  be  known  all  over  the  country 
as  the  greatest  sporter  and  spender  of 
the  day.  He  kept  race  horses,  and  stee- 
ple-chase   horses,    carriages    and    coaches-^ 


94  In  Chimney  Corners 

and  everything  was  thrapped  out  in  solid  goold. 
He  built  castles  that  had  a  window  for  every 
day  of  the  year — and  entertained  Kings  in 
them.  And  bards  and  chiefs  were  as  plentiful 
about  them  as  rats.  The  fame  of  the  great  rich 
blacksmith  spread  over  the  known  wurrl'  of 
them  days,  and  great  distinguished  tourists  and 
genthry  of  all  descriptions  come  flockin'  from 
all  arts  and  parts  to  see  him,  and  to  receive  his 
hospitality — bekase  he  kept  open  house  for  all 
comers,  and  sarvints  to  wait  on  them,  and 
coaches  and  coach-horses  to  dhrive  them. 

But  for  all  his  wealth,  Willie  couldn't  stop 
Time  from  runnin'.  And  at  long  and  at  last 
the  seven  years  and  a  day's  sparin's  was 
up,  an'  as  Willie  was  wan  day  sittin' 
down  to  a  grand  dinner  entirely  among 
Kings  and  Counts  an'  many  I'arned  peo- 
ple, and  people  of  high  degree,  the  door 
of  the  great  dinin'  hall  opened,  and  a  tall 
gentleman  walked  in.  Willie  looked  up  and  at 
the  first  glint  he  remembered  him.  "Good 
morra,  Willie,"  says  the  stranger.  "I  suppose 
you  know  me,  and  are  ready  for  me."  "Good- 
morra  and  good  luck,"  says  Willie,  not  a  thrifle 


When  Neil  a-Mughan  was  Tuk  95 

mismoved— ''Yis,  I  know  you,  and  I'm  ready 
for  ye— as  soon  as  I  get  through  with  dinner 
(it  would  be  bad  manners  to  laive  me  guests  at 
table)  an'  make  a  set  of  goold  shoes  that  I've 
promised  the  King  of  Prooshia  there  below  for 
his  horse — let  me  inthroduce  you  to  the  King. 
—King,"  says  Willie  to  the  King,  ^'this  is"-— 
'^A  frien',"  says  the  Devil.    ''—A  frien',"  says 
Willie.    An'  the  King  an'  the  Devil  bowed,  the 
Devil  remarkin'  he  hoped  for  the  pleasure  of  a 
further  acquaintance  with  him  some  day.    He 
told    Willie    not    to    hurry,     an'     took    his 
place     at     the    table,     and     a     right    hearty 
dinner,     and     then     went     with     Willie      to 
the    forge,    to    see    him  turn    out    the  goold 
shoes.       ''Here,"      says      Willie,      says      he, 
"when  he  was  baitin'  these  out  on  the  anvil, 
"make  yerself  useful,  and  help  me  through  till 
I  be  off  with  ye" — handin'  him  a  sledge.    The 
Devil  took  hold  of  the  sledge  with  both  hands 
and  begun  baitin';  but  the  sarra  wan  of  him 
could  let  it  go  when  he  wanted  to,  for  the  sledge 
stuck  to  his  hands  like  grim  daith.     "Come," 
says  Willie,  says  he,  "old  man,  are  ye  ready  for 
the  road?"    "Take  away  this  sledge  out  of  me 


96  In  Chimney  Cforners 

hands,"  says  the  Devil.  "I  don't  recall/'  says 
Willie,  ''that  there's  anything  about  that  in  my 
bargain.  I'm  afeerd  ye'll  have  to  stick  to  the 
sledge.  Come  along,"  says  he,  "I'm  ready." 
"Och,  ye  scoundhril,"  says  the  Devil,  says  he, 
and  he  dancin'  all  over  the  place,  with  all  Wil- 
lie's guests  and  friends  standin'  by  brakin' 
their  hearts  laughin'  at  him.  "Take  away  this 
sledge,"  says  he,  at  long  and  at  last,  "and  I'll 
give  ye  another  seven  years'  and  a  day's 
sparin's."  So,. at  that  Willie  tuk  from  him  the 
sledge,  and  the  Devil  went  off  in  mighty  anger. 
It  was  like  new  life  to  Willie  startin'  the  next 
tarm.  And  he  went  at  these  seven  years  of  fun 
and  frolic,  like  a  man  at  a  day's  work.  And  if 
the  seven  years  afore  had  been  a  merry  seven, 
these  seven  wer^  seven  times  as  merry.  His 
house  never  emptied,  and  day  or  night  the  fun 
and  carousin'  never  wanst  ceased  in  it.  There 
come  more  throops  and  bands,  and  Kings  and 
Queens  with  all  their  body-sarvints  than  ever 
went  to  visit  Solomon  in  all  his  glory.  His 
name  and  fame  was  sounded  in  the  utthermost 
ends  of  the  earth;  and  in  all  the  wurrl'  again 
there  wasn't  so  great  a  man  as  Willie. 


When  Neil  a-Mughan  was  Tuk  97 

But  at  long  and  at  last,  again,  these  seven 
years    and    a    day  passed,  too.    And    on  the 
very    day    when    they    were    up,     just    as 
Willie,    again,    was    sittin'   down  to  table  in 
the  middle  of  Kings  and  Queens,  and  great 
foreign  Counts,  the  doore  of  the  dinin'  hall 
opened  and  in  steps    no    other   than  Willie's 
frien\      "Good    morra,    Willie,"     says     he, 
with    an    ugly    smile    on    his    face  as  much 
as   to   say   "I'm   goin'    to  get   even   with   ye 
at  last,  boy-o/'    "Good-morra,  and  good  luck," 
says  Willie,  not  the  laist  thrifle   mismoved, 
seemin'ly.    "Willie,"  says  he,  "I  hope  you're 
ready  to  come  with  me?"    "I  am,"  says  Willie 
—."Butler,"    says   Willie,    "bring   forrid   that 
large  chair  there  behind  you  and  set  it  here  at 
my  right  hand  for  this  gentleman,  and  bring 
him  in  a  large  plate  of  the  best  ye  can  find  in  the 
pot— he's  going  to  do  us  the  honor  of  pickin'  a 
bone  with  us."    "Thanky,  thanky,"   says^  the 
Devil,  says  he,  seatin'  himself,  and  tacklin'  the 
dinner  with  a  rale  hearty  appetite. 

But  lo,  when  all  had  finished  their  dinners, 
and  Willie  had  sayed  grace  and  stood  up,  the 

Devil  he  couldn't  rise  at  all,  at  all,  for  he  was 


98  In  Chimney  Corners 

stuck  as  fast  to  the  chair  as  if  he  had  been 
waxed  to  it.  "I'm  ready  for  the  road  now,  old 
man,"  says  WiUie, — are  you?"  ''Oh,  ye  no- 
torious villain,"  says  the  Devil,  "this  is  a  purty 
manethricktoplayon  a  man  in  your  own  house, 
and  at  your  own  table,  moreover.  Relaise  me 
from  this  chair,"  says  he.  "I  don't  remember 
that  there  was  anything  about  that  in  my  bar- 
gain," says  Willie.  The  Devil  he  wriggled  and 
wriggled,  and  screwed  and  twisted  himself,  till 
all  the  gentlemen  and  ladies  present  went  into 
stitches  with  the  laughin'.  And  then,  says  he, 
"Relaise  me  out  of  this  chair  and  I'll  give  ye 
seven  years  and  a  day  more."  "Done,"  says 
Willie ;  and  he  relaised  him,  and  let  him  go  off, 
black  in  the  countenance  with  anger  and  wrath. 
Willie's  pile  of  money  was  by  no  means  as 
big  as  what  it  used  to  be,  but  there  was  an 
odious  pile  of  it  yet.  And  so  for  the  next  seven 
years,  Willie  run  the  same  rigs  he  had  done 
afore;  only,  if  anything,  he  went  it  ten  times 
faster  and  furiouser,  and  his  house  was  the 
resort  for  ten  times  as  many  princes  and  people 
from  the  very  corners  of  the  earth  itself.  And 
the  fun  was  ten  times  as  big,  and  the  aitin* 


When  Neil  a-Mughan  was  Tuk  99 

and  dhrinkin'  ten  times  as  great  and  grand. 
And  the  likes  of  it  never  had  been  seen  afore 
nor  never  will  be  seen  again. 

But  the  best  of  things  must  some  time  or 
other  come  till  an  end.     And  so  it  seemed  with 
Willie;  for  these  years  passed,  too.    And  the 
day  the  devil  was  due,  come;    and  on  that 
day,  just  as  afore,  Willie,  he  was  sittin'  down 
till   the   table    to    dinner,    along   with   all   his 
great   distinguished   guests,    when   the    doore 
of    the    dinin'    room    opens,    and    in    walks 
me     brave     Devil     again.     "Good     morra, 
Willie,"     says    he,    with    the    same    old  vi- 
cious smile.    "Good    morra    and    good  luck," 
says     Willie,   as    little    as    ever    mismoved, 
"won't  ye  sit  down  and  have  a  pick  of  dinner 
with  us?"    "Not  me,"  says  the  Devil.    "You 
fooled  me  twicet,  but  ye'U  never  have  it  to  say 
that  ye  fooled  me  the  third  time.   Come  along," 
says  he.     "That's  mighty  curt,"  says  Willie. 
"It's  your  desarts,"  says  the  Devil.   "Lay  down 
the  knife   and   fork   now,   and   throt."      And 
Willie  had  there  and  then  to  say  good-bye  to  his 
guests,  an'  beg  their  pardon  for  this  hasty  de- 


loo  In  Chimney  Corners 

parture,  an'  walk  off,  hungry  as  he  was,  with 
the  Devil. 

It  was  in  the  heat  of  summer,  and  the  roads 
was  dhry  and  dusty,  and  the  sun  burnin'  down 
on  top  of  the  two  thravellers.  After  they'd  been 
some  hours  walkin'  Willie  complained  he 
was  mighty  thirsty.  'Well,"  says  the  Devil, 
says  he,  the  first  inn  we  come  till,  I'll  let  ye  go 
in  and  have  a  dhrink."  Says  Willie,  "But  I 
haven't  got  a  stiver  on  me,  me  purse  is  as  emp'y 
as  Micky  Meehan's  male-chist."  ''Neither  have 
I  a  stiver,"  says  the  Devil.  "What'll  ye  do?" 
"Why,  as  for  that,"  says  Willie,  "You're 
such  a  nice  obligin'  fella  that  I  know  ye'll 
oblige  me  in  this.  All  you've  got  to  do  is  to 
turn  yourself  until  a  goold  piece  in  my  purse 
whilst  I  buy  a  thrait  with  ye."  "I'll  do  that, 
with  a  heart  and  a  half,"  says  the  Devil.  And 
the  first  inn  they  come  up  till,  the  Devil  thrans- 
formed  himself  intil  a  goold  piece  in  Willie's 
purse,  and  Willie  closed  the  purse  on  him. 
Then  straight  back  home  with  him  Willie 
marched  and  into  his  forge.  He  laid  the  purse 
down  on  the  anvil,  and  gettin'  two  other 
sthrong  lumps  of  fellas  along  with  himself,  he 


When  Neil  a-Mughan  was  Tuk  loi' 

put  sledges  in  their  hands,  and  told  them  fire 
away  and  not  spare  themselves.  So,  as  heavy 
and  fast  as  the  three  of  them  could,  they  rained 
the  blows  down  upon  the  purse  on  the  anvil; 
and  every  blow  come  down,  the  Devil  he  yelled. 
And  they  struck  away,  and  he  yelled  away; 
and  he  cried  oi-^t  and  begged  of  Willie  to  let 
him  out,  and  he'd  give  him  more  sparin's.  And 
when  Willie  got  all  the  fun  himself  and  his 
friends  needed  for  wan  day,  out  of  him,  Willie 
released  him  from  the  purse,  on  his  promisin* 
to  give  him  seven  years  and  a  day  more. 

But  poor  Willie's  money,  which  had  been 
goin'  all  this  time  like  corn  in  a  sieve,  was  now 
run  purty  low.  For  six  of  the  seven  years  he 
had  as  gay  a  time  and  as  merry  as  ever  afore — 
but  the  money  run  out  with  the  sixth  year,  and 
poor  Willie  had  no  means  of  makin'  more — for 
he'd  sooner  starve  than  work.  His  friends  dis- 
appeared, too,  with  the  money;  and  him  that 
thought  he  could  count  friends  be  the  thousand 
couldn't  find  as  much  as  one  single  one,  now,  on 
lookin'  round  him.  The  seventh  year,  then,  was 
a  purty  hard  one  with  Willie;  an'  he  was  no 
ways  sorry  to  find  the  end  of  it  comin',  and  with 


I02  In  Chimney  Corners 

it  the  Devil — for  he  had  got  heart-sick,  sore, 
and  tired,  of  the  wurrl'. 

And  when  at  the  end  of  the  seventh  year  and 
a  day  the  Devil  come  again  he  found  Wil- 
lie, with  the  stick  in  his  fist  waitin' 
him.  And  Willie  started  along  with  him 
this  time  with  a  heart  and  a  half.  And 
on  ahead  the  both  of  them  thrudged  and 
thravelled  for  many  a  weary,  dhreary 
mile,  for  further  nor  I  could  tell  you, 
and  twicet  further  nor  you  could  tell  me,  till  at 
long  at  last  they  reached  their  journey's  end, 
and  the  Devil  knocked  on  the  gates  of  Hell,  and 
had  both  of  them  admitted  in. 

But  behold  you,  Willie  wasn't  long  in  here 
till  he  tired  of  it,  and  wished  he  was  free  again. 
So  he  set  about  makin'  himself  as  bothersome 
as  he  could,  and  yocked  a  row  with  everybody 
in  it,  till  they  could  stand  him  no  longer,  and 
put  in  a  petition  to  the  Devil  to  have  him  put 
out  of  here,  bekase  there' d  never  be  no  more 
comfort  whilst  he'd  be  let  remain.  And  the 
Devil  himself,  too,  found  him  so  throublesome 
that  he  was  only  too  glad  to  give  in,  and  to  ax 
the  request  of  Willie  that  he'd  go  quietly,  and 


When  Neil  a-Mughan  was  Tuk  103 

laive  them  in  paice.  But  Willie  was  conthrary, 
as  always  he  had  been,  and  he  now  refused  to 
go  till  they  had  to  join  and  put  him  out  by  main 
force.  And  when  they  got  him  out,  and  the 
gates  slammed  on  him,  Willie  kicked  up  a 
racket  outside,  and  pegged  on  the  gates  for  all 
he  was  worth,  and  wouldn't  go  away  till  they'd 
consent  to  hand  him  out  a  torch,  that  he  might 
see  his  way  by.  So  the  Devil,  through  the 
bars  of  the  gate,  handed  out  till  him  the  torch, 
and  told  him  to  begone  back  to  the  wurrl'  he 
come  from,  and  spend  his  time  ever  afther  in 
leadin'  good  people  asthray. 

Back  Willie  come,  and  from  that  day  to  this, 
he  has  continued  wandherin'  afore  him,  over 
hill  and  dale,  himself  and  his  torch ;  and  it's  his 
great  delight  to  atthract  the  attention  of  good 
people  that  have  lost  their  way  at  night,  and 
lead  them  into  marshes,  and  bogs,  and  swamps, 
where  they  get  stuck,  and  sunk,  and  lost. 

And  from  that  day  to  this,  owin'  to  the  torch 
or  wisp  he  carries  in  his  hand,  he  has  been  called 
Willie-the-Wisp.  And  on  our  friend  Neil  here 
to-night  he  had  evil  intentions ;  but,  as  Neil  re- 
marked, he  had  some  poor  body's  prayer  on 


104  In  Chimney  Corners 

him,  and  God  reached  till  him  a  helpin*  hand^ 
and  led  him  out  of  the  bog. 

"  Thank  God !  "  we  all  said  fervently. 
And  Neil  said :  "  Thanks  be  to  Him ! '' 


The  Black  Bull  of  the  Castle 
of  Blood 


THE  BLACK  BULL  OF  THE 
CASTLE  OF  BLOOD 


,  Once  on  a  time,  long,  long  ago,  when  good 
people  were  scarcer,  and  enchantments  more 
plentiful,  there  was  a  Queen  who  had  three 
beautiful  daughters  who  were  renowned  far  and 
wide  for  their  handsome  looks  and  gentle  ways, 
and  were  courted  by  kings  and  princes,  and 
many  others  of  high  degree,  but  hadn't  yet  been 
won  by  any.  One  day  a  great  prince,  that  no 
one  knew,  and  who  had  never  been  seen  in  that 
country  before,  came,  like  the  others,  looking 
for  the  hand  of  one  of  these  beautiful  ladies. 
But  the  queen  approved  of  him,  in  case  he  was 
able  to  succeed  in  winning  the  willing  hand  of 
either  of  her  daughters,  and  though  he  tried 
his  very  best  he  couldn't  win  either  of  them; 
for  they  hadn't  yet  seen  enough  of  him,  and 
didn't  know  enough  about  him  to  consent, 
either  of  them,  to  be  his  for  life.  Then,,  he  was 
to; 


io8  In  Chimney  Corners 

too  proud  and  too  haughty  to  spend  time  in  his 
courting,  Hke  the  other  great  gentlemen  who 
endeavoured  to  win  them,  and  when  he  couldn't 
have  his  desire  granted  at  once  he  would  not 
delay,  but  went  away  from  the  queen's  court 
in  great  wrath,  saying  angrily  that  the  next 
time  he  came  for  them  they  would  come  with 
him  without  the  asking. 

It  wasn't  long  after  he  went  away,  when  one 
morning,  the  queen  and  her  three  daughters 
sitting  by  a  window,  chatting,  and  looking  out 
on  the  lovely  grounds,  saw  a  great  black  bull 
tramping  among,  and  rooting  up  their  flower 
beds.  They  were  greatly  annoyed  at  this,  and 
the  eldest  daughter  jumped  up  and  ran  out, 
seizing  a  bit  of  stick  by  the  way  to  drive  the  bull 
from  the  garden,  but  when  she  reached  the  bull 
and  struck  him  with  the  stick,  the  stick  stuck  to 
the  bull,  and  her  hand  stuck  to  the  stick,  so  that 
she  couldn't  let  it  go.  Then  the  bull  started 
away,  dragging  her  after  him  and  over  high 
hills,  and  low  hills,  grey  mountains,  and  green 
plains  he  ran,  with  the  lady  still  drawn  after 
him,  very  soon  disappearing  from  view  of  the 
queen's    castle,  and  for  three  days  and  three 


The  Black  Bull  109 

nights  he  never  stopped  running  so,  till  he 
reached  another  great  castle,  painted  the  colour 
of  blood.  Here  the  bull  changed  into  the 
shape  of  a  man,  and  the  frightened  young  prin- 
cess saw  that  he  was  no  other  than  the  haughty 
prince  they  had  a  short  time  before  rejected. 

"Now  lady,"  said  he,  **it  was  my  last  warn- 
ing, when  leaving  your  castle,  that  the  next 
time  I  would  visit  you,  you  would  come  with 
me  without  being  asked.  You  see,  my  word 
was  good,  whether  you  will  or  no.  I  now  make 
you  mistress  of  my  castle.  If  you  obey  me  you 
shall  want  for  nothing,  and  shall  be  happier  than 
even  in  your  mother's.  But  if  you  ever  dare 
to  disobey  me,  your  fate  will  be  that  of  many 
unfortunate  ones  who  went  before  you,  and 
whose  blood  has  painted  my  castle  the  colour 
you  see  it." 

The  princess  resigned  herself  to  her  fate, 
making  herself  as  comfortable  as  she  could  that 
night,  and  in  the  morning  the  prince  came  to 
her  with  a  great  bunch  of  keys,  which  he  gave 
into  her  possession,  saying : 

"Now,  since  you  are  to  be  mistress  of  my 
castle,  I  give  you  charge  of  all  the  keys  of  it.    I 


no  In  Chimney  Corners 

go  away  to  remain  away  for  a  day,  and  you  can 
pass  your  time  pleasantly  going  through  the 
castle  and  seeing  all  the  beautiful  rooms  in  it. 
Only  this — there,"  said  he,  pointing  out 
a  key,  "is  one  key,  and  do  not  use  it,  nor  enter 
the  room  it  opens.  If  you  dare  to  do  so,  you 
will  surely  suffer  for  your  idle  curiosity." 

Then  he  went  away,  and  the  princess  at  her 
leisure  went  through  the  rooms  of  the  castle 
one  after  another,  admiring  their  beauty  and 
gorgeousness,  until  she  had  seen  all  but  the  for- 
bidden room.  And  when  she  came  to  it  she 
looked  long  at  the  door,  and, 

"Well  now,"  she  said,  "I  wonder  what  can  be 
in  that  room,  or  why  he  has  forbidden  me  to 
enter  it.  I  would  like  to  see  it;  and  why 
mightn't  I  just  turn  the  key  and  peep  in?  Who 
can  know  ?" 

So  she  put  the  key  in  the  door  and  turned  it, 
and  seeing  the  floor  covered  with  some  red  mat- 
ter she  put  her  foot  in  it  and  found  it  was  blood. 
Then  she  was  horrified  on  looking  round  the 
walls  to  see  that  it  was  hung  all  round  with  the 
bodies  of  beautiful  ladies,  whom  she  then  knew 
the  prince  must  have  murdered.      Then    sho 


The  Black  Bull  ill 

quickly  closed  the  room  again,  and  locked  it 
She  went  to  wash  the  blood  from  her  foot, 
but  found  that  no  matter  how  much  she  tried, 
though  she  rubbed  it  and  scrubbed  it  in  a  run- 
ning stream  by  the  castle,  that  she  could  not 
get  even  the  smallest  drop  of  the  blood  washed 
out.  But  she  thought  she  could  easily  hide 
it  from  her  lord,  and  went  about  her  business 
unconcerned.  In  the  evening  she  took  bread 
and  a  basin  of  milk  into  the  garden  to  have  sup- 
per under  the  trees.  As  she  drank  the  milk  a 
cat  crept  up  to  lick  the  drops  that  fell  from  the 
bowl,  but  the  princess  struck  the  cat  with  her 
foot. 

"Miaow!  Miaow!"  said  the  cat.  "If  you 
let  me  drink  up  only  what  milk  you  let  drop,  I 
will  lick  half  the  blood  off  your  foot." 

"Get  out,"  said  she,  kicking  the  cat  again. 
"How  would  you  lick  it  off  when  I  wasn't  able 
to  wash  it  off  myself." 

Then  a  robin  redbreast  came  hopping  up, 
picking  the  crumbs  she  let  fall,  and  she  threw  a 
stick  at  the  robin. 

"Toowhit !  Toowhit  I"  said  the  robin,  "If  you 
let  me  pick  up  what  crumbs  you  let  fall,  I'll  tell 


112  In  Chimney  Corners 

how  to  take  away  one  half  the  blood  on  your 
foot." 

*'Get  out!"  said  she,  throwing  another  stick 
at  the  robin.  *'When  I  couldn't  wash  it  off 
myself  how  could  you  tell  me?" 

Next  day  the  prince  returned  and  asked  for 
the  keys.     She  gave  them  to  him. 

"I  hope,"  he  said,  "you  did  not  disobey  me, 
and  open  the  room  I  forbade  you?" 

"No,"  she  said,  "I  did  not." 

"Show  me  your  feet,"  said  he. 

She  tried  to  hide  the  foot  that  was  covered 
with  blood,  but  it  was  no  use,  for  the  prince  in- 
sisted on  seeing  it.  And  when  he  saw  the  blood 
upon  it  he  had  her  killed  and  hung  up  in  the 
secret  room. 

At  the  queen's  castle  there  was  great  grief 
and  great  trouble  at  the  loss  of  the  princess, 
and  on  a  morning  about  a  week  after  she  had 
been  carried  off,  the  queen  and  her  two  daugh- 
ters sat  by  the  window  talking  of  their 
loss,  when  once  more  the  black  bull  appeared 
in  the  garden  rooting  up  the  beautiful  flowers 
and  destroying  all  before  him.  The  elder  of 
the  two  daughters  said  she  would  go  out  and 


The  Black  Bull  1 1 3 

drive  him  away.  Her  mother  tried  to  per- 
suade her  not,  but  she  insisted,  and,  catching  up 
a  rake  on  her  way — in  order  to  stand  further 
from  him  than  her  sister  did — she  went  into 
the  garden  and  struck  the  bull  with  it.  But  the 
rake  stuck  to  the  bull  and  her  hand  stuck  to  the 
rake,  and  off  the  bull  started  over  high  hills, 
low  hills,  grey  mountains,  and  green  plains, 
running  without  once  stopping  for  three  days 
and  three  nights  till  she  at  length  saw  a  great 
castle  the  colour  of  blood,  and  here  she  stopped, 
and  the  bull  turned  himself  into  a  man,  and 
there  she  beheld  the  very  prince  who  had  gone 
away  from  her  mother's  castle  in  wrath  not 
long  before. 

"Fair  princess,"  said  he,  "you  may  remember 
that  when  I  quitted  your  mother's  castle  my  last 
words  were  that  when  I  came  again  you  would 
come  with  me  without  my  asking  you.  Haven't 
I  kept  my  word  ?" 

Then  he  led  her  into  the  castle  and  told  her 
she  would  be  mistress  of  it ;  and,  if  she  so  willed 
it,  might  be  as  happy  as  the  day  was  long,  for 
he  would  permit  her  the  enjoyment  of  every 
pleasure,  and  put  every  pleasure  in  her  way— 


114  In  Chimney  Corners 

only,  let  her  beware  not  to  disobey  any  of  his 
orders  else  the  fate  of  many  others,  whose 
blood  now  coloured  the  walls  of  his  castle, 
would  be  hers. 

Next  morning  he  called  her,  and  telling  her 
he  was  going  to  be  absent  for  two  days,  gave 
her  the  keys  of  all  the  rooms  in  the  castle,  tell- 
ing her  she  might  amuse  herself  looking 
through  them,  and  beholding  their  magnifi- 
cence, till  he  returned.  But  he  pointed  out  one 
and  warned  her  on  her  peril  not  to  open  the 
room  of  which  that  was  the  key. 

The  prince  departed,  and  the  young  princess 
immediately  set  about  going  through  the  many 
magnificent  rooms  which  the  castle  contained, 
and  her  amazement  at  their  grandeur  was  great. 
She  had  opened  and  entered  every  room  but  the 
forbidden  one,  and  coming  to  that  door  and 
examining  it  she  began  debating  with  herself 
why  it  was  he  had  ordered  her  not  to  enter  it, 
and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  must  con- 
tain some  wonderful  secret  when  he  was  so 
strict  in  excluding  her  from  it.  At  length  she 
resolved  to  just  open  it  and  peep  in,  saying  that 
it  would  be  impossible  for  the  prince  ever  to 


The  Black  Bull  115 

find  out  her  disobedience.  So  she  turned  the  key 
in  the  door,  and,  opening  it,  she  saw  something 
red  on  the  floor,  to  which  she  put  her  foot  and 
found  it  was  blood.  Then,  looking  round  the 
room,  she  saw  the  horrible  sight  of  many  bodies 
of  beautiful  ladies,  and  her  own  lost  sister 
amongst  them,  hung  by  the  walls.  She  quickly 
closed  the  door  and  locked  it.  But  she  found 
her  foot  was  covered  with  blood,  and  when  she 
went  to  the  stream  that  flowed  by  the  castle  to 
wash  it,  though  she  rubbed  and  rubbed  ever  so 
hard,  she  could  not  get  any  of  the  blood  off  her 
foot.  Then  she  gave  it  up,  saying  to  herself 
that  she  would  manage  to  conceal  it  from  her 
lord. 

That  evening  as  she  sat  under  the  trees  in  the 
garden  eating  bread  and  drinking  milk  for  sup- 
per, a  cat  crept  up  to  lick  some  drops  of  milk 
that  had  fallen  on  the  ground.  She  kicked 
away  the  cat. 

"Miaow !  Miaow !"  said  the  cat,  "if  you  let 
me  take  what  milk  drops  from  your  bowl,  I 
shall  lick  one-half  the  blood  off  your  foot." 

"Get  out  y  said  she,  making  another  kick  at 


Ii6  In  Chimney  Corners 

the  cat,  ''When  I  couldn't  wash  it  off  myself, 
Tm  very  sure  you  couldn't  lick  it  off.'- 

Then  a  robin  redbreast  hopped  up  to  pick  the 
crumbs  she  let  fall ;  but  she  threw  a  stick  at  the 
robin  and  hunted  it  away. 

'Toowhit!  toowhit!"  said  the  robin  from 
the  tree  where  it  alighted.  "If  you  let  me  pick 
up  what  crumbs  fall  from  you  I'll  tell  you  how 
you  may  take  one-half  the  blood  off  your  foot/* 

"Get  out!"  said  she,  throwing  another  stick 
at  him.  "When  I  couldn't  wash  it  off  myself 
Tm  very  sure  you  couldn't  tell  me  how." 

At  the  end  of  the  two  days  the  prince  re- 
turned and  demanded  the  keys. 

"I  trust  you  haven't  gone  into  the  room  I  for- 
bade you  of?"  he  said.     "Show  me  your  feet." 

She  tried  to  hide  the  bloody  foot  from  him, 
but  it  was  of  no  use,  for  he  insisted  on  seeing  it ; 
and,  finding  the  blood  upon  it,  he  knew  she  had 
been  in  the  secret  room,  and  he  immediately 
killed  her,  and  hung  up  her  body  beside  her  sis 
ter's. 

About  a  week  after  the  second  sister's  dis- 
appearance, the  queen  and  her  only  daughter, 
the  youngest,  sat  in  great  grief  by  the  window 


The  Black  Bull  117 

on  a  morning,  trying  to  console  each 
other  for  their  great  loss,  when  once  more  the 
black  bull  appeared  in  the  garden,  rooting  up 
their  flowers  as  before.  The  young  princess 
said  she  would  go  out  and  drive  him  off.  Her 
mother  endeavoured  to  persuade  her  not  to 
attempt  it,  but  she  insisted,  and  seizing  a  very 
long  pole — in  order  to  keep  further  from  him 
than  her  elder  sisters — as  she  went  she  rushed 
into  the  garden,  and  struck  the  bull  with  it. 
But  the  pole  stuck  to  the  bull,  and  her  hand 
stuck  to  the  pole ;  and  the  bull  went  off,  and  she 
went  off,  over  high  hills,  low  hills,  grey  moun- 
tains, and  green  plains,  running  on  and  on, 
without  once  stopping,  for  three  days  and  three 
nights,  till  at  length  she  saw  a  great  red  castle, 
painted  all  over  with  blood.  Here  the  bull 
stopped,  and  changed  his  shape  into  that  of  a 
man — the  very  prince  to  whom  she  and  her  sis- 
ters had  some  time  before  refused  their  hands 
in  marriage. 

"Now,  fair  young  princess,"  said  he,  "when 
you  refused  me  and  I  quitted  your  mother's 
castle,  I  said  that  the  next  time  I  went  for  you, 


11 8  In  Chimney  Corners 

you  might  come  without  asking.  Has  not  my 
word  been  kept  ?" 

Then  he  told  her  that  he  would  make  her  the 
mistress  of  that  great  castle,  and  that  she  would 
want  for  nothing  to  make  her  happiness  perfect. 
Only,  he  told  her,  she  would  have  to  obey  him 
in  all  things ;  otherwise,  the  fate  of  those  whose 
blood  had  painted  his  castle,  would  also  be  hers. 

On  the  next  morning  the  prince  told  her  he 
was  going  away,  to  remain  for  three  days,  and 
he  gave  her  a  great  bunch  of  keys  which  opened 
every  room  in  the  castle,  and  told  her  whilst  he 
would  be  absent  to  amuse  herself  as  best  she 
could  going  through  them,  seeing  their  rich- 
ness and  beauty.  But  he  showed  her  one  key, 
and  told  her  on  no  account  to  dare  enter  or 
open  the  room  of  which  that  was  the  key. 

The  prince  bade  her  good-bye  and  departed, 
and  the  princess,  taking  the  great  bunch  of 
keys,  went  through  the  castle,  gazing  at  the 
beauty  of  the  many  rooms  in  amazement  and 
wonder,  until  she  had  seen  them  all  but  the  one 
he  had  ordered  her  not  to  open.  She  stood  a 
long  time  before  the  door  of  this  room,  wonder- 
ing why  it  was  he  had  forbidden  her  to  enter  it 


The  Black  Bull  119 

and  what  secret  could  it  contain  that  he  was  so 
anxious  to  keep  from  her.  At  length  she  re- 
solved to  open  it  and  peep  in  anyhow,  for  how 
should  he  know  whether  she  had  disobeyed  him 
or  not.  So  she  opened  the  door,  and  seeing 
the  floor  covered  with  something  red,  she  put 
her  foot  to  it  to  find  what  it  was,  and  discovered 
it  was  blood.  Then  she  saw  a  very  great  num- 
ber of  bodies  of  beautiful  ladies  who  had  been 
murdered,  and  hung  by  their  long  hair  from 
hooks  round  the  walls.  Horrified  by  this,  she 
hastily  closed  the  door,  and  locked  it.  But  she 
found  her  foot  was  covered  with  blood,  and  she 
went  at  once  to  the  stream  that  flowed  by  the 
castle  for  the  purpose  of  washing  it.  Yet, 
though  she  washed  and  washed,  and  scrubbed 
and  rubbed  for  hours  together,  she  was  unable 
to  take  a  single  trace  of  blood  off  the  foot. 
Then  she  left,  saying  to  herself  that  she  would 
be  able  to  conceal  it  from  the  prince  anyhow. 

In  the  evening,  as  she  ate  her  bread  and 
drank  her  milk  for  supper,  under  the  trees  in 
the  garden,  a  cat  came  creeping  up  to  lick  the 
drops  of  milk  that  fell  from  the  basin. 

"Oh,  poor  puss !"  said  she,  "you're  thirsty 


I20  In  Chimney  Corners 

and  that's  not  much  milk  for  you.  Here,"  said 
she,  giving  the  half-finished  basin  to  the  crea- 
ture— ''Here  is  a  drop  for  you,  for  you're 
thirstier  than  me,  and  I  can  easily  do  without 
it." 

When  the  cat  had  finished  the  milk,  "Miaow ! 
Miaow !"  it  said,  "put  out  your  foot  fair  lady, 
till  I  lick  half  the  blood  off  it." 

"There  it  is,  good  cat,"  said  she,  putting  it 
out,  "but  when  I  couldn't  wash  it  off  myself,  I 
fear  you  won't  be  able." 

But  in  a  few  moments  the  cat  licked  off  half 
the  blood.  She  thanked  it  very  much  and  it 
went  away,  leaving  her  eating  her  bread. 

Soon  the  robin  redbreast  came  hopping  up  to 
pick  the  crumbs  that  fell  from  her. 

"Poor  robin,"  she  said,  "you  are  hungry  and 
more  in  need  of  this  bread  than  me,  for  I  can 
easily  do  without  it,"  and  she  laid  down  her 
bread  till  the  robin  had  pecked  to  satisfaction 
of  it. 

"Toowhit!  toowhit!"  said  the  robin  then — 
"I  can  tell  you,  kind  lady,  how  to  take  the  other 
half  of  the  blood  off  your  foot,  if  you  do  it." 

*'Very  well,  then,  good  robin,"  she  said,  "FU 


The  Black  Bull  121 

try.  But  when  I  wasn't  able  to  wash  it  off  my- 
self I  fear  you  won't  be  able  to  help  me." 

"Pluck  ten  leaves  of  the  yarrow  to-night  at 
midnight,"  said  the  robin.  "Throw  the  tenth 
away  and  boil  the  other  nine.  Then  wash  your 
foot  in  the  boiled  juice  and  the  blood  will  wash 
off." 

She  thanked  the  little  robin,  who  flew  away, 
and  at  midnight  she  went  into  the  garden  and 
plucked  ten  leaves  of  the  yarrow,  throwing  the 
tenth  away,  and  boiling  the  other  nine.  In  the 
juice  she  washed  her  foot,  and  every  trace  of 
the  blood  was  gone. 

When,  at  the  end  of  the  three  days,  the  prince 
returned,  he  demanded  the  keys. 

"I  hope,"  said  he,  "you  haven't  disobeyed 
me,  and  opened  the  forbidden  room.  Show  me 
your  feet." 

She  showed  him  her  feet  which  would  shame 
snow  in  whiteness. 

"I  see  you  have  not  disobeyed  me,"  he  said, 
"and  I  am  glad,  for  I  would  not  like  to  kill  so 
beautiful  a  lady.  Your  two  sisters  whom  I 
took  away,  and  many  other  beautiful  ladies  be- 
fore that,  when  put  to  the  test,  disobeyed  me. 


122  In  Chimney  Corners 

and  I  killed  them  and  hung  them  up  by  the  hair 
in  that  very  room.  You  have  not  disobeyed 
me,  and  I  will  make  you  my  wife,  for  you  have 
nothing  more  to  fear  now  that  I  have  found  you 
are  without  that  curiosity  which  is  the  great 
blemish  on  most  women.  Here,"  he  said,  hand- 
ing her  a  white  rod,  "is  a  wand.  Go  to  the 
secret  room,  open  it,  and  going  in,  strike  the 
bodies  of  your  sisters  with  it." 

She  did  this,  and  lo !  her  sisters  came  to  life 
once  more.  The  prince  then  allowed  her  to 
bring  to  life  in  the  same  way  all  the  other  young 
ladies  who  had  been  killed  and  hung  up  in  the 
room,  and  they  were  sent  to  their  homes  again. 

The  young  princess  found  herself  very  much 
in  love  with  the  prince,  for  he  was  a  most  hand- 
some man;  and  she  now  gladly  agreed  to  be- 
come his  wife.  Her  mother  was  soon  made  ac- 
quainted with  what  had  happened,  and  her  joy 
was  great  at  finding  her  beautiful  daughters 
still  alive.  She  came  to  the  marriage,  as  did  all 
the  other  nobility;  and  it  was  allowed  on  all 
hands  that  a  more  beautiful  or  a  happier  pair 
had  never  before  been  united.  The  marriage 
lasted  nine  days  and  nine  nights ;  the  last  day 


The  Black  Bull 


123 


and  night  was  as  good  as  the  first,  and  the  first 
as  good  as  the  last;  and  the  handsome  prince 
and  his  beautiful  princess  lived  happily  ever 
after. 


The  Old  Hag  of  the  Forest 


THE  OLD  HAG  OF  THE  FOREST 


Once  on  a  time,  long  long  ago,  when  there 
were  more  kings  and  queens  in  Ireland  than 
O'Donnell's  old  castle  has  windows,  and  when 
witches  and  enchantments  were  as  plentiful  as 
blackthorn  bushes,  there  was  a  king  and  a  queen 
with  three  sons,  and  to  every  one  of  these  sons 
the  queen  had  given  a  hound,  a  hawk  and  a 
filly.  The  filly  could  overtake  anything,  the 
hound  could  catch  anything  it  pursued  on  dry 
land,  and  the  hawk  could  come  up  with  anything 
in  the  air  or  in  the  water.  In  the  course  of 
time,  when  these  three  lads  had  grown  up  to  be 
fine,  able,  strapping  young  men,  the  oldest  said 
one  day  that  he  would  go  away  to  push  his  for- 
tune. The  king  and  the  queen  were  vexed  at 
this,  and  wrought  him  high  up  and  low  down 
to  keep  him  from  going,  but  it  was  all  no  use, 
he  wouldn't  be  said  by  them,  and  so,  asking 
127 


128         In  Chimney  Corners 

their  blessing,  he  mounts  the  filly,  and,  with  the 
hawk  on  his  shoulder,  and  the  hound  at  his 
heels,  sets  out.  And  he  told  them  as  he  was 
setting  out,  to  watch,  from  day  to  day,  the 
water  that  settled  in  the  filly's  hoof-tracks  out- 
side the  gate,  "for,"  says  he,  ''as  long  as  that 
water  keeps  clear  Fm  all  right;  but  when  you 
see  it  frothing,  I'm  fighting  a  hard  battle;  and 
if  ever  you  see  it  turn  bloody  I'm  either  dead 
or  under  enchantment."  So  himself,  the  hound, 
the  hawk  and  the  filly,  they  started,  and  off  with 
them,  and  they  traveled  away,  and  away,  far 
further  than  I  could  tell  you  and  twice  further 
than  you  could  tell  me,  till  at  last  one 
evening  late  he  comes  in  sight  of  a  great 
castle.  When  he  got  sight  of  the  castle 
he  pulls  up  his  filly,  and,  looking  about 
him,  he  sees  a  small  wee  house  convaynient  and 
he  drew  on  this  house,  and,  going  in,  found 
only  one  old  woman  in  it  and  saw  that  it  was  a 
neat,  clean  little  house  entirely.  "God  save  ye, 
young  gentleman,"  says  the  woman.  "God 
save  yerself,  kindly,  and  thanky;  and  can  I 
have  lodging  for  the  night  for  myself,  my 
hound,  my  hawk,  and  my  filly?"  says  he.  "Well 


The  Old  Hag  of  the  Forest    1 29 

for  yourself,  you  can/'  says  the  old  woman, 
says  she,  ''but  I  don't  like  them  other  animals, 
but  sure  you  can  house  them  outside,"  says  she. 
Very  well  and  good,  he  agreed  to  this.  When 
the  old  woman  was  getting  his  supper  for  him 
she  said  she  supposed  he  was  for  the  big  fight 
the  morrow.  He  axed  her,  "What  big  fight?" 
"And  och,"  says  she,  "is  that  all  you  know 
about  it,"  commencing  and  telling  to  him  how 
that  the  king's  daughter  of  the  castle  beyond 
was  to  be  killed  by  a  great  giant  the  next  day 
unless  there  was  a  man  there  able  to  beat  the 
giant,  and  to  any  man  that  would  fight  him  and 
beat  him  the  king  was  to  give  his  daughter  in 
marriage  and  the  weight  of  herself  three  times 
over  in  goold.  "Och,"  says  he,  "I'll  find  some- 
thing better  to  do.  I'll  not  go  near  it."  So 
the  next  morning  early  he  was  up  betimes  and 
pretending  he  was  going  away  to  hunt;  but 
doesn't  he  go  instead  to  the  king's  castle,  and 
there  he  saw  no  end  of  a  crowd  gathered  to- 
gether from  the  four  winds  of  the  world,  some 
of  them  thinking  to  fight  the  giant  and  win  the 
king's  dau.sfhter,  and  more  of  them  only  come 
out  of  curiosity,  just  to  look  on.   But  when  the 


130  In  Chimney  Corners 

giant  made  his  appearance,  and  they  saw  the 
sight  of  him,  not  a  man  of  all  the 
warriors  there,  covered  all  over  as  they  were 
in  coats  of  iron  mail  from  the  crown  of  their 
heads  to  the  soles  of  their  feet — the  sorra  re- 
saive  the  one  of  them,  but  went  like  that,  trem- 
bling with  fear,  for  the  like  of  such  a  tar-riffic 
giant  none  of  them  ever  saw  or  heerd  tell  of 
before.  So,  my  brave  king's  son  waited  on  till 
he  saw  there  was  none  of  them  present  would 
venture  to  fight  the  giant,  and  then  out  he  steps 
himself;  and  the  giant  and  him  to  it,  and  the  like 
of  their  fight  was  never  witnessed  in  Ireland  be- 
fore or  since,  and  he  gave  the  giant  enough  to 
do,  and  the  giant  gave  him  enough  to  do ;  till  at 
last,  when  it  was  going  hard  with  him,  he  gave 
one  leap  into  the  air,  and  coming  down 
with  his  sword  just  right  on  the  giant's 
neck,  he  cut  off  his  head,  clean  off,  and 
then  when  he  had  that  done  he  disappeared 
in  the  crowd,  and  after  killing  some  game 
on  the  hills  came  home  and  gave  the  old 
woman  the  game  for  supper.  That  night  when 
the  old  woman  was  giving  him  his  supper  she 
told  him  about  the  great  gentleman  that  had 


The  Old  Hag  of  the  Forest     1 3 1 

killed  the  giant  that  day,  and  then  disappeared 
all  of  a  suddint  into  the  air.  And  then  she 
said  that  giant's  brother  was  to  be  there  the 
morra  to  fight  anyone  that  would  fight  for  the 
king's  daughter,  and  she  told  him  he  should  go, 
for  it  would  be  well  worth  seeing.  But,  ''Och," 
says  he,  "VW  find  something  better  worth  do- 
ing— I'll  not  go  near  it."  So  after  his  supper, 
to  bed  he  went,  and  he  was  up  again  early  be- 
times in  the  morning,  and  making  pretend  he 
was  going  to  hunt,  he  went  off  to  the  castle 
again.  This  day  the  crowd  was  bigger  than 
ever,  and  when  the  giant  appeared,  if  the 
first  giant  was  tar-riffic,  this  one  was  twice  over 
double  as  tar-riffic,  and  he  could  get  no  man 
with  the  heart  to  venture  to  fight  him,  till  at 
length  my  brave  king's  son  had  to  step  out  this 
day  again  and  encounter  him.  Well,  if  the 
fight  was  hard  the  first  day,  it  was  this  day 
double  as  hard,  and  the  giant  gave  him  his  fill 
of  it,  and  he  gave  the  giant  his  fill  of  it,  till  at 
long  and  at  last  when  it  was  going  hard  on  him 
he  takes  one  spring  right  up  into  the  air  and 
landing  down  with  his  sword  on  the  giant's 
neck  he  cuts  the  head  right  off  from  the  body 


132  In  Chimney   Corners 

and  then  again  disappeared  in  the  crowd,  and 
after  a  while's  hunting  on  the  hills  he  come 
home  with  plenty  of  game;  and  this  night,  just 
like  the  night  afore,  when  the  old  woman 
was  giving  him  his  supper  she  made  great  won- 
ders of  telling  him  of  the  tar-riffic  fight  that  day 
again  between  the  strange  gentleman  and  the 
giant,  and  how  he  killed  the  giant  and  then  dis- 
appeared right  up  into  the  sky  before  all  their 
eyes.  And  then  she  said  that  on  the  morra  the 
third  and  last  giant  was  to  fight,  and  she  said 
this  would  be  a  wonderful  day  entirely,  and  he 
should  surely  go  to  see  it,  and  to  see  the  won- 
derful gentleman  that  killed  the  other 
two  giants.  But  "Och,"  says  he,  'Til 
find  something  better  to  do — I'll  not  go 
near  it,  to  look  at  him  or  it."  And 
the  third  morning  again  he  went  to  the 
castle,  purtending  that  it  was  to  hunt  he  was 
goin',  and  the  third  giant  appeared,  and  him  far 
more  tar-riffic  than  the  first  two  put  together. 
And  to  make  a  long  story  short,  my  brave 
king's  son  and  himself  went  at  it,  and  the  fight- 
ing was  the  most  odious*  ever  was  witnessed 

*  Odious  is  a  very  comprehensive  word  in  the  mouth 
of  a  Donegal  shanachy.  It  generally  means  everything 
inexpressible  by  the  English  language. 


The  Old  Hag  of  the  Forest     133 

before  or  since,  and  the  short  and  the  long  of  it 
was  that  he  sprung  up  at  length  into  the  air, 
and  coming  down  on  the  giant's  neck  cut  off  his 
head,  and  then  again  disappeared  in  the  crowd 
and  went  home;  but  as  he  was  disappearing, 
doesn't  one  of  the  king's  men  snap  the  shoe  off 
his  foot;  so  home  he  had  to  go  that  night  want- 
ing one  shoe.     Next  day,  and  for  eight  days 
after,  the  king  had  all  his  men  out  scouring  the 
country  far  and  wide  to  see  if  they  could  find 
the  owner  of  the  shoe;  but  though  they  flocked 
to  the  castle  in  thousands  not  one  of  them 
would  the  shoe  fit.    And  every  one  of  these  days 
the  king's  son  was  out  with  his  filly,  his  hawk 
and  his  hound  on  the  hills  hunting.    At  last  one 
day  the  old  woman  went  to  the  castle  and  told 
how  she  had  a  lodger  that  come  home  the  night 
the  last  giant  was  kilt  with  one  boot  wanting. 
And  the  next  day  the  king  came  there  himself 
with  a  carriage  and  four  horses  and  took  the 
king's  son  away  to  his  castle,  and  there  when 
they  tried  on  him  the  boot,  doesn't  it  fit  him  like 
as  if  it  was  made  on  his  foot ;  and  the  king  gave 
him  his  daughter,  and  the  marriage  was  per- 
formed, and  all  the  whole  gentry  and  nobility 


134         I^  Chimney  Corners 

of  all  the  land  was  invited  in  to  a  big  f  aist.  But, 
lo  and  behould  ye,  on  that  very  night  when  all 
the  spree  was  going  on,  and  the  fun  was  at  its 
heighth  in  the  ballroom,  and  all  were  as  busy  as 
bees  in  the  kitchen,  what  would  ye  have  of  it 
but  at  that  very  ins'ant  doesn't  there  come  to 
the  kitchen  window  a  hare,  and  puts  in  its 
head  and  commences  licking  a  plate  of 
some  particular  nice  dainty  that  was  cool- 
ing inside  the  window,  and  the  cook 
was  so  enraged  at  one  of  her  very  best 
dishes  being  destroyed  that  she  got  up  in  a 
passion  and  put  off  her  all  sorts  and  said  it  was 
a  nice  how  do  ye  do  that,  with  a  hairo  in  the 
house  that  had  killed  giants,  a  dirty  hare  would 
be  allowed  to  come  in  and  spoil  her  cook- 
ing. This  word  soon  came  to  the  groom's 
ears  in  the  ball-room,  and  though  the  king 
and  the  queen  and  the  bride  and  all  the 
nobility  and  gentry  tried  to  persuade  him 
against  it  he  wouldn't  stop,  and  there  was  no 
holding  of  him.  He  said  he  wouldn't  sleep  two 
nights  in  the  one  bed,  or  eat  two  meals'  meat 
in  the  one  house,  till  he  would  catch  that 
hare  and  bring  it  back  dead  or  alive.  So  mount- 


The  Old  Hag  of  the  Forest    135 

ing  his  filly,  and  taking  with  him  his  hawk  and 
his  hound,  he  started  off  hot-foot  in  pursuit.  He 
pursued  the  hare  all  that  night  and  all  the  next 
day,  and  at  evening  late  he  drew  on  a  little  wee 
house  he  saw  in  a  hollow,  and  he  went  in,  for  he 
was  tired,  and  determined  to  rest  that  night.  He 
wasn't  long  in,  and  he  was  warming  himself 
at  the  fire,  with  his  hound,  his  hawk  and  his 
filly,  when  he  hears  a  noise  at  the  wee  window 
of  the  house,  and  there  he  sees  a  dirty  wizened 
old  hag  of  a  woman,  trembling  and  shaking 
down  to  her  very  finger  tips.  "Och,  och,  och, 
it's  cold,  cold,  cold,"  says  she,  and  her  teeth 
rattling  in  her  head.  "Why  don't  you  come  in 
and  warm  yourself?"  says  he.  "Och,  I  can't,  I 
can't,"  says  she.  "I'm  afeerd  of  them  wild  ani- 
mals of  yours.  But  here,"  says  she,  pulling 
three  long  hairs  out  of  her  head,  and  handing 
them  in  by  the  window  to  him,  "here,"  says 
she,  "is  three  of  the  borochs"^  we  used  to  have 
in  old  times,  and  if  you  tie  them  wild  beasts  of 
yours  with  them  then  I'll  go  in."  So  he  took  the 
three  hairs  and  tied  the  hawk,  the  hound  and 


*  The  boroch  is  the  rope  used  in  tying  a  cow  to  the 


136  In  Chimney  Corners 

the  filly  with  them,  and  then  the  old  hag  came 
in,  but  she  was  trembling  no  longer,  and,  says 
she,  with  her  eyes  flashing  fire,  ''Do  you  know 
who  I  am?"  says  she.  'They  call  me  the  Old 
Hag  of  the  Forest,  and  it  was  my  three  sons 
you  killed  to  win  the  king's  daughter,  but 
you'll  pay  dearly  for  it  now,"  says  she.  With 
that  he  drew  his  sword,  and  the  hag  drew  an- 
other, and  both  of  them  fell  to  it,  and  I  couldn't 
be  able  to  describe  to  you  the  terrible  fight  they 
had  entirely.  But  at  length  the  Old  Hag  of  tht 
Forest  was  getting  too  many  for  him,  and  he 
had  to  call  on  the  help  of  the  hound.  "Hound, 
hound,"  says  he,  "where  are  you  at  my  com- 
mand?" And  at  this,  "Hair,  hair,"  says  the  old 
hag,  says  she,  "hold  tight."  "O,"  says  the 
hound,  "it's  hard  for  me  to  do  anything  and  my 
throat  a-cutting."  Then  he  called  on  the  hawk. 
"Hawk,  hawk,"  says  he,  "where  are  you  at  my 
command?"  And,  "Hair,  hair,"  says  the  old 
hag,  says  she,  "hold  tight."  "O,"  says  the  hawk, 
"sure  it's  hard  for  me  to  do  anything  and  my 
throat  a-cutting.  And  then  he  called  on  the  filly. 
"Filly,  filly,"  says  he,  "where  are  you  at  my 
«otnmand?"    "Hair,  hair,"  says  the   old   hag, 


The  Old  Hag  of  the  Forest     1 37 

says  she,  ^'hold  tight."  "O,"  says  the  filly,  "sure 
it's  hard  for  me  to  do  anything  and  my  throat 
a-cutting."  So  the  end  of  it  all  was  that  the  hag 
overcome  him,  and  then  taking  out  of  her 
pocket  a  little  white  rod  she  struck  him  with  it, 
and  turned  him  into  a  gray  rock,  just  outside 
her  door,  and  then  striking  the  hound,  the  hawk 
and  the  filly  with  the  rod  she  turned  them  into 
white  rocks  just  beside  him. 

Now,  at  home,  they  watched  the  water  in  the 
filly's  hoof  tracks  as  regular  as  the  sun  rose 
every  day,  day  after  day,  till  at  last  they  one  day 
saw  the  water  in  the  hoof  tracks  frothing,  and 
they  said  he  was  fighting  a  hard  battle ;  and  so 
he  was,  for  that  was  the  very  day  himself  and 
the  first  giant  had  the  encounter.  Next  day  it 
was  frothing  more  than  ever,  for  that  was  the 
day  he  was  fighting  the  second  giant,  and  on 
the  third  day  the  water  frothed  right  up  out  of 
the  tracks,  and  then  they  knew  he  was  fighting 
a  desperate  big  battle  entirely ;  and  sure  enough 
himself  and  the  third  giant  were  at  it  hard  and 
fast  at  the  same  ins'ant.  But  at  length  didn't 
they  find  the  water  turning  to  blood  and  they 
thought  he  must  be  killed.   So  the  next  morn- 


138  In  Chimney  Corners 

ing  the  second  brother  set  out  and  he  said  hcS 
wouldn't  sleep  two  nights  in  the  one  bed  nor  eat 
two  meals  of  meat  in  the  one  house  till  he'd  find 
out  what  happened  to  his  brother.  He  took  his 
hound,  his  hawk  and  his  filly  with  him  and  he 
traveled  on  and  on,  far  further  than  I  could  tell 
you,  and  twice  further  than  you  could  tell  me, 
till  at  length  one  evening  late  doesn't  he  come  to 
the  very  wee  house  near  a  great  castle  where  his 
brother  had  put  up  before  him.  And  when  he 
comes  in  the  old  woman  that  was  in  the  house 
flew  at  him  and  kissed  him  and  welcomed  him 
back  with  a  hundred  welcomes  ten  times  over, 
for  he  was  so  like  his  brother  she  was  sure  it 
was  him  was  in  it.  Then  she  told  him  that  they 
were  all  waiting  for  him  anxiously  at  the  castle, 
expecting  him  back  every  day,  and  that  he 
should  lose  no  time  in  going  to  them,  for  that 
the  bride  in  particular  was  down-hearted  en- 
tirely since  he  had  went  away,  thinking  that 
she'd  never  see  him  no  more.  So  off  he  starts 
at  once  for  the  castle  to  find  it  all  out,  and  it's 
there  was  the  welcome  and  the  rejoicing,  and 
the  pretty  king's  daughter  covered  him  all  over 
with  kisses,  and  there  was  a  great  spread,  and 


The  Old  Hag  of  the  Forest    1 39 

all  the  gentry  and  nobility  were  asked  in  again, 
but  that  night  again,  what  would  you  have  of 
it,  but  the  hare  comes  a  second  time,  and  spoiled 
the  cook's  best  dish,  and  drove  the  cook  into  a 
frightful  rage,  and — ''It's  a  nice  how  do  ye  do, 
indeed,"  says  the  cook,  says  she,  "that  with  a 
hairo  in  the  house  that  slew  three  giants  a 
hare  would  be  allowed  to  come  in  and  spoil  my 
very  choicest  dish,  and  then  go  off  with  itself 
scot  free,"  says  she.  And  this  word  come  to 
the  new  groom  in  the  ballroom,  and  "By  this, 
and  by  that,"  says  he,  "I  won't  stop  till  I  go 
after  that  hare,  and  I'll  never  stop  two  nights  or 
eat  two  meals  in  the  one  house  'till  I  bring  back 
that  hare  dead  or  alive."  And  so,  off  he  starts, 
himself,  the  hound,  the  hawk,  and  the  filly ;  and 
all  that  night  and  the  next  day  he  purshued 
after  the  hare,  and  late  the  next  evening  when 
he  was  feeling  tired  out  and  not  able  to  follow 
any  further  doesn't  he  see  in  the  hollow  below 
him  a  little  house,  and  drawing  on  the  house, 
he  went  in  and  was  warming  himself  by  the  fire 
with  his  hound,  his  hawk  and  his  filly  about 
him  when  he  hears  a  noise  at  the  window,  and 
there  he  sees  an  old  hag  quaking  and  shaking 


140  In  Chimney  Corners 

all  over.  "Och,  och,  och,  it's  cold,  cold, 
cold/'  says  she,  trembling  all  over.  "Why 
don't  you  come  in  and  warm  yourself?" 
says  he.  *'0,"  says  she,  "I  couldn't  go 
in,  for  I'm  afeerd  of  them  wild  animals 
of  yours.  But  here,"  says  she,  pulling 
three  long  hairs  out  of  her  head,  "here's 
three  of  the  kind  of  borochs  we  used  to  use  long 
ago,  and  tie  your  animals  with  them,  and  then 
I'll  go  in."  So  he  takes  the  hairs  and  ties  the 
hound,  the  hawk  and  the  filly  with  them,  and 
then  the  old  hag  came  in,  and  she  not  trembling 
at  all  now,  but  her  eyes  flashing  fire,  and,  says 
she,  "Your  brother  killed  my  three  sons,  and  I 
made  him  pay  dearly  for  it,  and  I'll  make  you 
pay  dearly,"  says  she,  "too."  So  with  that  she 
drew  a  sword,  and  he  drew  a  sword,  and  both 
of  them  to  it,  and  they  fought  long  and  they 
fought  hard,  but  the  hag  was  too  many  for  him, 
so  at  length  he  had  to  call  on  the  hound. 
"Hound,  hound,"  says  he,  "where  are  you  at 
my  command?"  Says  the  old  hag,  says  she, 
"Hair,  hair,  hold  tight !"  "O,"  says  the  hound, 
"how  could  I  do  anything  and  my  throat 
a-cutting?"    Then    he    called    on    the    hawk 


The  Old  Hag  of  the  Forest    141 

"Hawk,  hawk/'  says  he,  ''where  are  you 
at  my  command?"  "Hair,  hair,"  says 
the  old  hag,  says  she,  "hold  tight!"  ''O," 
says  the  hawk,  ''how  could  I  do  anything 
and  my  throat  a-cutting?"  Then  he  called  on 
his  filly.  "Filly,  filly,"  says  he,  "where  are  you 
at  my  command?"  "Hair,  hair,"  says  the  old 
hag,  says  she,  "hold  tight!"  "O,"  says  the  filly, 
says  he,  "how  could  I  do  anything  and  my 
throat  a-cutting?"  So  the  end  of  it  all  was 
again  that  the  hag  got  the  better  of  him,  and, 
taking  out  a  wee  bit  of  white  rod  out  of  her 
pocket  she  struck  him  with  it,  and  turned  him 
into  another  gray  stone  outside  the  door,  and 
then  struck  the  hound,  the  hawk  and  the  filly, 
and  turned  them  into  three  white  stones  just 
beside  him. 

Now,  at  home  as  before,  they  were  watching 
his  filly's  hoof  tracks  every  day  regular,  and 
everything  went  well  till  at  last  one  day  they 
saw  the  water  in  them  turn  bloody  and 
then  they  were  afeerd  he  was  kilt.  Then  the 
very  next  morning  says  the  youngest  son  Jack, 
says  he,  "I'll  start  off  with  my  hound,  my  hawk 
and  my  filly,  and  won't  sleep  two  nights  in  one 


142  In  Chimney  Corners 

bed,  or  eat  two  meals  in  the  one  house  till  I 
find  what  has  happened  to  my  two  older  broth- 
ers." So  off  he  starts — himself,  his  filly,  his 
hawk,  and  his  hound — and  he  traveled  and 
traveled  away,  far  further  than  you  could  tell 
me  or  I  could  tell  you,  till  he  come  in  sight  of 
the  very  same  castle  his  two  brothers  reached 
before  him,  and  drawing  on  the  wee  hut  he  saw 
near  it  he  went  in,  and  the  old  woman  jumped 
and  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  wel- 
comed him  home  with  a  hundred  thousand  wel- 
comes, and  told  him  it  was  a  poor  thing  to  go 
away  and  leave  his  bride  the  way  he  did,  twice, 
and  that  she  was  in  a  very  bad  way,  down- 
hearted entirely,  thinking  and  ruminating  what 
had  become  of  him,  or  happened  to  him  at  all, 
at  all.  And  then  she  hurried  my  brave  Jack  off 
to  the  castle.  And,  och,  it's  there  the  welcome 
was  for  him  and  the  rejoicements,  bekase  he 
had  come  back  again.  And  this  time,  just  as  be- 
fore, the  great  faist  was  given,  and  the  gentry 
and  nobility  all  asked  in  to  it,  and  the  play  was 
at  its  heighth  when  the  word  come  to  the  ball- 
room once  more  about  the  unmannerly  hare 
spoiling  the  cook's  best  dish  the  third  time,  and 


The  Old  Hag  of  the  Forest    143 

how  the  cook  said  it  was  a  purty  how  de  ye  do, 
entirely,  that  such   a   thing  would  be  allowed, 
with  a  hairo  in  the  house  that  slew  three  giants. 
And  with  that,  without  more  ado,  off  my  brave 
Jack  insisted  on  starting,   and  there  was  no 
holding  of  him,  good  or  bad,  for  he  said  he 
was    bound    to    fetch    back    that  hare,  dead 
or    alive.     So    off    Jack   starts    himself,   his 
hawk,    his    hound    and    his    filly,    and  Jack 
had     a     sort     of    notion     in     his     eye     that 
this  same  hare  was  nothing  good,   and  that 
'twas  it  led  his  two  brothers  astray,  whatever 
had  happened  to  them.   So  he  traveled  on,  and 
on,  and  on,  for  that  night  and  all  the  next  day, 
and  never  come  up  with  the  hare,  till  at  length, 
late  that  evening,  he  saw  from  him  the  same 
wee  hut  in  the  hollow  that  his  brothers  drew  on 
before,  and  on  it  my  brave  Jack  drew,  too.  And 
after  he  had  been  in  the  cabin  some  time  him- 
self, his  hound,  his  hawk  and  his  filly,  he  hears 
the  noise  at  the  window,  and  there  he  sees  the 
old  hag,  trembling  and  shaking  and  quaking, 
and  "Och,  och,  och,  but  it's  cold,  cold,  cold," 
says  she :  "And  why,"  says  he,  "don't  you  come 
in  and  warm  yourself?"  "Och,"  says  she,  "Fra 


144  I^  Chimney  Corners 

afeerd  of  them  wild  animals  of  yours.  But 
here/'  says  she,  taking  out  of  her  head  three 
hairs,  ^'here's  three  of  the  kind  of  borochs  we 
used  to  use  in  old  times,  and  tie  your  animals 
with  them,  and  then  I'll  go  in."  Jack  took  from 
her  the  three  hairs,  and,  pretending  to  tie  the 
hound,  the  hawk  and  the  filly  with  them,  he 
threw  them  instead  into  the  fire.  Then  the  old 
hag  came  in,  her  eyes  blazing  in  her  head,  and, 
drawing  a  sword,  she  rushes  at  Jack  to  have  his 
life.  And  Jack  drew  his  sword  and  rushed  at 
her,  and  both  of  them  to  it  hard  and  fast,  and 
they  fought  long  and  they  fought  hard,  till  at 
length  Jack,  finding  the  hag  putting  too  sore  on 
him,  called  on  his  hound.  "Hound,  hound, 
where  are  you  at  my  command  ?"  "Hair,  hair," 
says  the  old  hag,  says  she,  "hold  tight!"  "O," 
says  the  hair,  "it's  hard  for  me  to  do  good  and 
me  a-burning  in  the  fire."  And  then  Jack  called 
on  his  hawk.  "Hawk,  hawk,"  says  he,  "where 
are  you  at  my  command?"  "Hair,  hair,"  says 
the  old  hag,  says  she,  "hold  tight."  "O,"  says 
the  hair,  "it's  hard  for  me  to  do  good  and  me 
a-burning  in  the  fire."  Then  Jack  called  on  his 
filly.    "Filly,  filly,"  says  he,  "where  are  you  at 


The  Old  Hag  of  the  Forest    145 

my  command?"  ''Hair,  hair,"  says  the  old  hag, 
says  she,    "hold  tight."    "O,"   says  the  hair, 
"it's  hard  for  me  to  do  good  and  me  a-burning 
in  the  fire."  So  the  hound,  the  hawk  and  the  filly 
all  rallied  to  my  brave  Jack's  aid,  and  the  hound 
got  hold  of  the  hag  by  the  heel  and  wouldn't 
let  her  go  all  she  could  do ;  and  with  one  fling 
the  filly  broke  her  leg,  and  the  hawk  picked  out 
her  two  eyes,  so  she  couldn't  see  what  she  was 
doing,  or  where  she  was  striking.   So  then,  she 
cried  out,  "Mercy,  mercy,  spare  my  life  and  I'll 
give  you  back  your  two  brothers."  "All  right," 
says  Jack,  "tell  me  where  they  are,  and  how  I'm 
to  get  them."   "Do   you   see  them   two   gray 
stones,"  says  she,  "outside  the  door,  with  three 
smaller  white  ones  round  each  of  them?"   "I 
do,"  says  Jack.    "Well,"  says  she,  "the  gray 
stones  are  your  brothers,  and  the  others  are 
their  hounds,  their  hawks,  and  their  fillies ;  and 
if  you  take  water  from  the  well  at  the  foot  of 
that  tree  below  the  house,   and   sprinkle  three 
drops  of  it  on  each  of  them  stones,  they'll  all  be 
disenchanted  again."   Jack,  you  may  suppose, 
didn't  lose  much  time  doing  this,  and  lo  and  be- 
hold you  from  the  stones  comes  up  his  two 


146  In  Chimney  Corners 

brothers,  every  one  of  them  with  his  hound,( 
his  hawk,  and  his  filly,  just  the  same  as  they 
were  before  they  had  been  enchanted  by  the  old 
Hag  of  the  Forest,  and  that  was  the  meeting 
and  the  greeting  between  Jack  and  his  lost 
brothers,  that  he  thought  he'd  never  see  again ! 
But  off  they  soon  started,  all  of  them,  with  their 
hounds,  their  hawks  and  their  fillies,  away 
back  for  the  castle  again,  and  the  eldest  brother 
got  his  bride  and  the  faist  was  spread  this  time 
again  and  all  the  gentry  and  nobility  of  both 
that  and  the  surrounding  countries  all  come  to 
attend  it  and  do  honor  to  the  bride  and  groom ; 
and  such  a  time  for  eating,  drinking,  dancing, 
singing,  fun  and  amusement  was  never  seen  be- 
fore or  after.  Jack  and  the  second  brother 
started  away  off  afterwards  for  home  with  their 
hounds,  their  hawks  and  their  fillies  with  them 
and  as  much  goold  as  they  could  carry.  I  got 
brogues  of  hrochan^  and  slippers  of  bread,  a 
piece  of  a  pie  for  telling  a  lie,  and  then  come 
slithering  home  on  my  head. 
*  Porridge. 


Rory  the  Robber 


RORY  THE  ROBBER 


RoRY  was  the  greatest  robber  in  that  whole 
country,  and  there  was  a  great  gentleman  lived 
there  who  owned  a  great  estate  in  a  distant  part 
of  the  country.  But  he  never  got  any  good  of 
the  estate,  for  whoever  he  sent  to  lift  the  rents 
was  always  sure  to  be  robbed  by  Rory  in  the 
mountains  coming  home  again,  and  maybe 
killed  into  the  bargain.  So  the  gentleman  found 
it  was  no  use  trying  to  lift  the  rents,  and  for  the 
past  five  years  he  gave  up  lifting  them  alto- 
gether. Then  there  was  a  boy  named  Billy 
come  to  the  gentleman  looking  to  be  hired,  and 
the  gentleman  axed  what  he  could  do;  and 
Billy  said  he  could  do  anything,  and  then  the 
gentleman  engaged  him.  And  when  that  time 
of  year  came,  says  Billy,  says  he,  to  his  masther, 
"Masther,"  says  he,  "are  ye  sendin'  no  one  to 
lift  your  rents  this  year?"  "No,  Billy,"  says 
the  masther,  "for  it  is  no  use.  Rory  would 
149 


150  In  Chimney  Corners 

only  rob  them,  and  maybe  murder  them  into  the 
bargain  on  the  way  back."  Says  Billy,  says 
he,  'I'll  try."  Well  and  good  the  masther  con- 
sinted,  and  told  Billy  to  harness  the  best  horse 
in  the  stable,  so  that  he  might  have  a  chance  of 
escaping  from  Rory.  "No,"  says  Billy,  "but 
give  me  the  very  worst  horse."  And  the  worst 
horse  Billy  saddled,  and  went  off.  And  when 
he  was  going  through  the  mountains  he  en- 
quired for  Rory,  and  finding  him  out,  he  told 
him,  says  he,  "I'm  Billy,  the  masther's  boy,  and 
I'm  going  to  such  a  place"  (mentioning  the 
name  of  where  the  estate  was),  says  he,  "to  col- 
lect his  rents ;  and  if  you're  here  when  I'm  com- 
ing back,  I'll  hand  the  money  over  to  you." 
Rory  thanked  him  for  nothing,  and  said  he 
would  be  there  right  enough  to  take  the  rents 
from  him.  So,  when  Billy  got  to  the  estate  and 
collected  the  rents  in  gold  and  notes,  he  had  it 
all  sewed  into  the  lining  of  his  coat,  all  except 
ten  pounds  that  he  changed  into  coppers  and 
tied  up  in  a  bag,  and  put  on  the  saddle  before 
him.  And  when  he  reached  the  mountains  on 
his  way  back,  there  he  met  Rory  waiting  for 
him.    Then,  says  Billy,  "I  want  to  purtend  to 


Rory  the  Robber  151 

my  masther  that  I  made  a  hard  fight  before  I 
gev  up  the  money,  so  do  you,"  says  he,  holding 
out  his  coat,  "shoot  your  pistols  through  that 
coat,  that  I  can  be  able  to  show  him  the  marks." 
Then  Rory  shot  all  his  pistols  through  Billy's 
coat,  making  a  number  of  holes  in  it.  Then 
Billy  threw  the  bag  of  coppers  on  the  road,  and 
says  he,  "There's  the  rints,"  and  when  Rory 
got  down  off  his  horse  to  lift  the  bag,  Billy 
jumped  up  on  it,  and  away  off,  and  it  was  one 
of  the  swiftest  horses  in  the  country,  so  that 
Rory  couldn't  overtake  him,  and  he  couldn't 
fire  after  him,  because  Billy  was  so  cute  as  to 
make  him  empty  all  his  pistols  into  his  coat. 

When  Billy  got  home  to  his  masther,  and  gev 
him  up  the  rints,  and  told  him  the  whole  story 
of  how  he  had  tricked  Rory,  his  masther  was 
proud  of  him,  and  couldn't  make  too  much  of 
him.  "But  then,"  says  the  masther,  "it  was  a 
bad  thing  to  take  his  horse,  for  he'll  never  rest 
contented  now  till  he's  revenged  on  me."  They 
agreed  it  was  best  to  leave  back  the  horse  with 
Rory,  and  so  Billy  started,  and  when  he  fell 
in  with  the  robber  and  gev  him  up  his  horse, 
Rory  said  he  was  a  clever  fellow  and  no  mis- 


152  In  Chimney  Corners 

take,  and  he  would  like  Billy  would  join  his 
band.  Billy  said  well  and  good,  he  would.  Off 
they  went,  then,  to  the  cave  in  the  mountains 
where  the  robbers  had  their  den,  and  when  they 
came  there  Rory  introduced  Billy  to  his 
brother  robbers,  and  they  proposed  to  welcome 
him  with  a  big  supper.  So  one  of  their  clever- 
est hands  was  sent  away  to  steal  a  sheep  that 
they  might  make  a  fine  roast.  He  was  a  long 
time  away  and  they  begun  to  chat  about  what 
was  keeping  him.  "I'll  bet  you  fifty  pounds," 
says  Billy  to  Rory,  **that  I  steal  the  sheep 
from  him.'*  "Done,"  says  Rory.  Then  Billy 
started  away,  and  taking  off  a  pair  of  splendid 
big  top  boots  he  had  on  him,  he  dropped  one  of 
them  about  a  mile  from  the  cave  in  the  path  the 
robber  would  take  coming  home  with  the  sheep, 
and  then  travelling  on  about  half  a  mile  further 
he  dropped  the  other,  after  rubbing  it  well  with 
soft  mud  to  make  it  right  dirty.  Then,  when, 
not  long  afther,  the  robber  comes  along  with 
the  sheep,  and  comes  up  to  this  boot,  he  looks  at 
it  and  says  "It's  a  fine  top-boot,  but,  bad  luck  to 
it,"  says  he,  "it's  too  dirty  entirely  to  carry,  and 
Where's  the  use  of  it  anyhow  when  I  haven't  its 


Rory  the  Robber  153 

fellow?"  On  he  went  then  himself  and 
the  sheep  till  he  come  to  the  next  boot, 
and  when  he  seen  it  "Bad  scran  to  me/* 
says  he,  "but  there  is  its  fellow,  and  I 
was  unlucky  I  didn't  take  it."  So  he  took 
and  tied  the  sheep  to  a  stump  of  a  bush  that  was 
bye,  and  started  away  back  to  get  the  other  top- 
boot.  In  the  meantime  Billy  loosed  the  sheep 
and  took  it  to  the  cave,  and  got  his  bet  from 
Rory.  Soon  the  robber  come  then  to  the  cave 
with  the  pair  of  top-boots  in  his  hand,  and  told 
how  he  tied  the  sheep  to  the  stump  of  a  bush  till 
he'd  go  back  and  look  for  the  other  top-boot,  and 
how,  when  he  come  back,  the  sheep  was  broke 
away,  and  he  couldn't  get  her.  Then  Rory 
ordered  him  to  go  back  and  steal  another  sheep ; 
"And  now,"  says  he  to  Billy,  when  he  was  gone, 
"I'll  hold  ye  a  hundred  pound  ye  don't  steal  this 
sheep  from  him."  "Done,"  says  Billy,  and 
started  off  after  him.  When  Billy  got  to  the 
place  he  had  stole  the  first  sheep  he  hid  close  by, 
and  waited  till  the  robber  come  up  with  the 
next;  and  when  he  come  up  Billy  commenced 
blcatin*  like  a  sheep  and  "Bad  luck  be  off  me," 
says  the  robber,  says  he,  "but  there's  the  sheep  I 


154  I^  Chimney  Corners 

lost."  And  with  that  he  tied  the  sheep  he  had 
with  him  now  to  the  very  same  tree  stump,  and 
went  over  the  ditches  looking  for  the  other 
sheep.  Billy  stole  round,  and  loosed  the  sheep, 
and  away  to  the  cave  with  it,  and  won  that  hun- 
dred pounds  too. 

Rory  had  to  confess  that  Billy  was  by  far 
the  cleverest  thief  he  ever  met,  and  even  cleverer 
than  himself.  "I'll  tell  you  what,"  says  he  to 
Billy,  "there's  one  thing  I  want  stolen,  and  I 
have  been  after  it  for  the  last  five  years  and 
couldn't  succeed — but  maybe  you'd  come 
better  speed  than  me;  it's  the  King  of  Con- 
naught's  black  mare,  the  grandest  and  swiftest 
in  the  world,  that  never  was  beaten  yet,  or 
never  will  be  beaten;  if  I  only  had  her,  I 
would  defy  the  whole  country,  for  none 
could  catch  me.  I'll  give  you,  Billy,"  says 
he,  "four  hundred  pounds  in  goold  if  ye 
can  succeed  in  stealing  her  for  me.  But 
it's  a  very  difficult  job,"  says  he,  "for  there's 
always  a  guard  of  soldiers  on  the  stable, 
and  a  man  sitting  on  the  back  of  the  black  mare, 
night  and  day,  for  fear  of  me  stealing  her." 
"Well,"  says  Billy,  "if  I  had  only  a  good  harper 


Rory  the  Robber  155 

to  come  with  me  I'd  steal  her."  "Well,"  says 
Rory,  "you  have  that  here,  for  I'm  reckoned 
a  first-class  player  on  the  harp,  and  my  father 
before  me  was  harper  to  the  Chieftain  of 
Knockree."  Well  and  good,  then,  Billy  made 
him  disguise  as  a  blind  harper,  and  they  both  of 
them  set  off,  and  the  harp  with  them,  for  the 
King  of  Connaught's  castle,  and  Billy  put 
Rory  to  play  the  harp  before  the  castle  win- 
dows where  there  was  a  lot  of  high-up  folk  be- 
ing entertained.  And  when  the  King  of  Con- 
naught  saw  the  blind  harper  he  made  him  be 
brought  in  to  amuse  the  company,  and  then,  of 
course,  a  dance  was  started,  and  every  one  was 
taken  up  with  the  fun,  the  captain  of  the  guards 
along  with  every  one  else.  Then,  when  Billy 
found  the  spree  at  its  height,  he  went  and  got  a 
jar  of  whiskey  and  drugged  it  with  sleeping 
drops,  and  then  went  into  the  courtyard  and  lay 
down  close  by  the  stables,  like  a  drunken  man 
fallen  asleep,  with  the  drugged  jar  beside  him. 
The  guards  soon  saw  the  jar,  and  smelled  it, 
and  saying  to  themselves  that  there  was  no 
watch  over  them  this  night,  when  everybody 
was  too  taken  on  with  the  fun,  and  that  it 


156  In  Chimney  Corners 

would  be  no  harm  to  taste  just  a  lit- 
tle of  it,  they  passed  the  jar  round,  and 
every  man  of  them  fell  fast  asleep;  and 
the  man  that  was  on  the  horse's  back 
dropped  off  it,  asleep  with  the  drink,  too ; 
and  Billy  got  up  and  went  into  the  stable,  and 
taking  out  the  black  mare,  started  off  with  her 
to  the  mountains.  And  when  Rory  arrived 
he  was  a  proud  man  to  find  the  King  of  Con- 
naught's  black  mare  there  before  him.  He 
counted  down  to  Billy  four  hundred  yellow, 
shining  sovereigns,  and  Billy  went  home  with 
his  five  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  and  lived  an 
honest  and  happy  man  ever  after. 


Myles  McGarry  and  Donal 
Mc  Garry 


MYLES  McGARRY  AND  DONAL 
McGARRY 


Once  on  a  time  there  was  two  brothers, 
Myles  McGarry  and  Donal  McGarry,  and  they 
had  only  a  weeshy  wee  bit  of  a  sod  of  land  that 
they  called  a  farm,  but  it  was  that  small  that  a 
daicent  crow  with  any  self-respect  would  be 
ashamed  to  live  on  it;  and,  though  Myles  and 
Donal  was  two  hard  workin',  industhrus  boys 
close  on  to  forty-five  years  of  age,  and  worked 
early  and  late,  in  fair  weather  and  foul,  the 
dickens  a  bit  of  them  could  make  as  much  out 
of  the  wee  sparrow  park  as  would  keep  body 
and  sowl  together,  so  sez  Myles  to  Donal,  sez 
he,  one  mornin'  in  the  latther  end  o'  harwust, 
sez  he :  "Now,  Donal,  asthore,  as  we've  got  in 
the  wee  crop  safe  and  sound,  and  there's  noth- 
ing more  to  do  again'  the  winther,  it  wouldn't 
hould  me,"  sez  Myles,  sez  he,  "to  sthart  away 
and  hire  till  the  Wareday  comes  round  again, 
IS9 


i6o  In  Chimney  Corners 

when  I'll  maybe  find  something  to  do  helping 
you  to  put  in  a  wee  bit  of  crop.  In  the  mane- 
time,  keep  you  a  tight  grip  on  the  farm  and 
don't  let  it  blow  away  when  the  wind  rises." 
So,  spitting  on  his  staff,  and  wishing  Donal 
"God  prosper  him,"  off  he  stharted,  and  away 
he  travelled  afore  him  for  long  an'  long,  till  at 
length  he  come  into  a  strange  country,  where 
he  fell  in  with  a  gentleman-looking  man;  and 
this  lad  asked  him  where  was  he  going,  or  what 
was  a  trouble  to  him. 

"I'm  looking  for  a  masther,"  sez  Myles. 

"Well,  by  the  powdhers,"  sez  the  gentleman- 
looking  man,  sez  he,  "but  I'm  looking  for  a 
sarvant." 

"Well  and  good,"  sez  Myles,  sez  he,  "I  think 
we  could  do  worse  nor  strike  up.  What's  your 
tarms?"  sez  Myles. 

"Well,  my  tarms,"  sez  the  gentleman-looking 
man,  "my  tarms,"  sez  he,  "is  a  wee  bit  out  of 
the  ornery.  The  pay,"  sez  he,  "is  purty  good; 
I'll  give  fifty  pounds  for  a  good  sarvant,  from 
now  till  the  cuckoo  has  called  three  times — 
only  this:  any  boy  hires  with  me  must  never 
confess  himself  out  of  timper,  or  displaised 


Myles  and  Donal  McGarry     1 6 1 

with  me;  at  the  same  time  that  I'll  agree  never 
to  confess  myself  out  of  timper  or  displaised 
with  him;  and  if  aither  of  us  breaks  this  un- 
dherstanding  he's  to  allow  his  two  ears  to  be 
clipped  off  with  the  woolshears  by  the  other. 
Do  you  consint  to  them  tarms?"  sez  he. 

"Well,"  sez  Myles,  sez  he,  "the  tarms  is  what 
I  call  a  bit  quare ;  but,  stillandever,  considher- 
ing  that  I  favour  the  look  of  ye — and  I  think 
your'e  a  jintleman — and  as  I  know  that  I  have 
a  fairishlygood  timper  meself,  and  as  the  wages 
is  nate— why,  I  say  all  things  considered,  I'm 
inclined  to  be  of  opinion  that  I  might  go  further 
and  fare  worse.     So  considher  me  hired." 

Very  good,  Myles  went  home  with  his  mas- 
ther  and  had  nothing  to  do  that  night,  but  got  a 
good  supper,  and  went  to  his  bed,  and  in  the 
morning  when  he  got  up  the  masther  was  with 
him  immediately  and  sez : — 

"Go  out,"  sez  he,  *'to  the  barn,  and  start 
thrashin'  that  wee  grain  of  corn.  There's  not 
much  in  it,"  sez  he,  "and  ye'll  not  get  your 
breakwist  till  you  have  done." 

Well  and  good.  Off  Myles  started,  whist- 
ling, to  the  barn.     But  when  he  got  there  and 


1 62  In  Chimney  Corners 

looked  in  of  the  door,  my  faix,  his  tune  was 
soon  changed,  for  there  was  as  good  as  six  ton 
of  corn  piled  and  panged  up  to  the  roof. 

"Phew-ew-ew !"  sez  Myles,  "there's  some 
mistake  here,  surely.  There's  siveral  days* 
thrashin'  of  corn  there,  and  he  can't  expect  one 
to  have  that  done  by  breakwist  time.  But  I'll 
do  what  I  can,  anyhow,  and  thrash  away  till 
they  call  me  in." 

But  Myles,  unfortunate  christian  that  he 
was,  he  thrashed  and  thrashed  away,  and  if  he'd 
been  thrashin'  since  there  wouldn't  one  of  them 
have  come  out  to  call  him  in  to  his  breakwist. 
So  my  poor  Myles  thrashed  away,  and  peg- 
ged away,  till  he  had  a  heap  of  corn  as  big  as 
a  wee  hill,  and  a  pile  of  straw  as  big  as  a  moun- 
tain before  and  behind  him,  and  by  that  time  it 
was  falling  night,  and  no  one  having  come  to 
call  him,  he  pitched  the  flail  from  him  as  far  as 
he  could  throw  it  and  pushed  for  the  house. 
There  he  met  the  masther. 

''Well,  Myles,"  sez  the  masther,  "it  can't  be 
that  it's  only  now  ye're  iinishin'  that  wee  grain 
of  corn  ?"  sez  he. 

^Finishin'  it!"  sez  Myles,  scornfully,  that 


Myles  and  Donal  McGarry     163 

way  after  him — 'Tinishin'  it,  in  troth!  No, 
nor  it's  not  well  begun.  Nice  thrashers,"  sez  he, 
"ye  must  have  in  this  part  of  the  country  if  they 
do  the  like  of  that  afore  breakwist." 

"Oh!"  sez  the  masther,  "so  it's  what  ye 
haven't  done  yet,  then  ?  Very  well,  ye  get  no 
breakfast  till  it's  finished — but  I  won't  refuse 
you  sleep.  You  can  go  to  bed  for  the  night, 
and  go  at  it  fresh  in  the  morning." 

Myles  listened  to  him  for  a  while,  and  then 
he  flew  out  in  a  passion. 

"And  is  that  the  way  ye're  goin'  to  thrate 
me,  a  daicent  woman's  son,  to  send  me  to  bed 
breakwistless,  dinnerless,  and  supperless,  and 
go  out  to  thrash  the  morra  mornin'  again  fresh 
and  fastin'  on  the  bare-footed  stomach — is  that 
the  way,  ye  onnatural  brute,  ye,  is  that  the 
way — " 

"Aisy,  aisy,"  sez  the  masther.  "Are  ye 
angry  with  me,  Myles?" 

Then  Myles  minded  his  bargain,  and  he  got 
down  in  the  mouth,  and, 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  sez  he,  "I'm  not  angry  with  ye 
at  all,  at  all." 

And  with  that  he  went  to  his  bed,  and  next 


164  In  Chimney  Corners 

morning  he  was  up  and  out  early  to  his  work, 
and  there  the  poor  fellow  worked  and  sweated, 
and  thrashed  and  thrashed,  till  he  was  fairly 
falling  down  with  the  hunger  and  waikness, 
and  he  seen  that  at  this  rate  it's  dead  he'd  be 
afore  he  got  half  through  with  the  corn.  And 
at  this  time,  who  looks  in  of  the  barn  door  with 
a  snicker  of  a  laugh  in  his  throat  but  the  mas- 
ther. 

"Well,  Myles,"  sez  he,  "not  breakwist  time 
yet  I  see?" 

This  was  too  much  for  flesh  and  blood  to 
stand.  He  draws  the  flail  one  polthogue  at  the 
lad  in  the  door,  and  just  barely  missed  him  by 
a  hair's  breadth. 

"What,  Myles,  Myles,"  sez  he,  "sure  it's  not 
angry  with  me  you  are  ?" 

"Is  it  not,  though?"  sez  Myles,  "I  wish,"  sez 
he,  "the  ould  divel  had  ye,  for  ye're  the  most 
onnatural  brute  I  ever  come  across, — bad  scran 
to  ye!" 

"All  right,  all  right,"  sez  he,  "down  on  your 
knees  with  ye,"  and  taking  hold  of  the  wool- 
shears  he  left  poor  Myles'  head  in  a  couple  of 
minutes  as  bare  of  ears  as  the  head  of  a  her- 


Myles  and  Donal  McGarry     165 

rin'.  And  off  poor  Myles  started  for  home, 
and  reached  Donal  and  the  farm  in  a  woful 
plight.  And  he  starts  and  rehearses  to  Donal 
the  whole  norration  of  all  happened  to  him. 

**Never  mind,"  sez  Donal,  sez  he,  when  he 
finished — ''Never  mind,"  sez  he,  ''if  I  don't  get 
even  with  him.  Just  you  stop  at  home,  now, 
Myles,"  sez  he,  "and  keep  the  farm  from  blow- 
ing away,  till  I  go  and  see  how  him  and  me  can 
agree." 

So  spitting  on  his  stick,  and  in  the  same  way, 
wishing  Myles,  "God  prosper  him,"  he  started 
off,  and  travelled  away  afore  him  for  days  and 
nights  till  he  come  to  the  same  strange  country 
and  fell  in  with  the  very  same  man  that  Myles 
did.  And  the  man  said  he  was  looking  for  a 
good  sarvant,  and  Donal  said  he  was  looking 
for  a  good  masther ;  so  the  long  and  the  short  of 
it  was  that  Donal  engaged  on  the  very  same 
tarms  Myles  did. 

The  very  next  morning  after  he  hired,  the 
masther  tould  him  to  go  out  and  thrash  a  wee 
grain  of  corn  was  in  the  barn  afore  he'd  get  his 
breakwist.  Donal  went  out  and  started  the 
thrashing,  and  the  first  cart  he  saw  passin'  the 


l66  In  Chimney  Corners 

way  going  to  the  next  town,  he  gathered  up  a 
bag  of  the  corn  and  threw  it  on  it,  telhng  the 
driver  to  sell  it  in  the  town  and  fetch  him  back 
the  worth  of  it  in  provision^  aitables  and  so- 
forth.  Faix,  my  brave  Donal  thrashed  away 
at  his  aise  for  three  or  four  days  whistlin'  like  a 
thrush,  and  aitin'  and  drinkin'  like  a  lord,  and 
every  day  regular  the  ould  tyrant  would  come 
and  look  in,  and  ax  him  how  he  was  getting 
along.  "As  snug  as  a  bug  in  a  rug,"  me  brave 
Donal  would  tell  him,  and  then  whistle  up  a 
livelier  jig,  and  the  ould  fella  would  go  away 
with  himself,  with  a  face  as  long  as  an  under- 
taker's when  trade's  dull,  wondherin'  how  on 
earth  the  lad  could  thrash  so  long  without  a 
pick  of  breakwist,  till  at  last  he  began  to  get  a 
bit  misdoubtful  of  himself;  and  so,  the  fifth 
day,  when  he  gleeked  in,  and  found  Donal,  if 
anything,  in  bigger  heart  than  usual. 

"Do  ye  hear  me,  my  man?"  sez  he  to  Donal. 

"Oh,  I'm  listenin',"  sez  Donal,  going  on  with 
his  whistling. 

"Ye  wouldn't  be  feeling  hungry  for  a  pick  of 
something  to  eat?"  sez  he. 


Myles  and  Donal  McGarry     167 

"Throgs,  no;  I'm  thankful  to  you/'  sez 
Donal. 

He  studied  on  himself  a  while,  and  shook 
his  head.  ''You're  here,  now — let  me  see — 
One,  two,  three,  four,  five — this  is  your  fifth 
day,"  sez  he,  ''you're  here,  now,  and  what's 
strikin'  me  as  odd,  bite  or  sup  didn't  cross 
your  Hds  since  ye  come  here,"  sez  he. 

"Didn't  they,  though?"  sez  Donal,  back  again 
to  him  that  w^ay,  with  a  knowing  wink. 

This  give  him  a  sort  of  a  start.  "And  sure 
they  didn't?"  sez  he. 

"That's  all  you  know  about  it,  me  rare  ould 
buck,"  sez  Donal,  sez  he,  "I'm  livin'  like  a 
prence,"  sez  he,  "on  the  best  of  everything,  lay- 
ings and  lashings,  and  no  thanks  to  nobody," 
sez  Donal. 

"Livin'  like  a  prence?"  sez  the  ould  fella. 
"An'  in  the  name  of  powdher,"  sez  he,  "where 
did  you  get  the  mait?" 

"I  got  it  in  the  town,"  sez  Donal,  "where  any 
one  will  get  it  that  gives  value  for  it.  There's 
no  day  the  sun  rises  that  there  doesn't  pass  by 
the  barn  door  here,  goin'  to  the  town,  a  string 
of  carts  as  long  as  the  day  an'  the  morra;  an* 


1 68  In  Chimney  Corners 

what's  aisier  done  nor  throwin'  a  sack  of  that 
whait  on  them — an'  throth,"  sez  Donal,  hand- 
lin'  a  couple  of  grains  of  it,  "bully  whait  it  is; 
the  shop-keepers  is  sendin'  me  out  word  to  send 
in  all  I  can  of  it,  and  they'll  insure  me  the  top  of 
the  market — what's  aisier,  I  say,"  sez  Donal, 
sez  he,  "than  hoistin'  a  sack  or  two  of  that  fine 
whait  on  one  of  them  carts  betimes,  an'  gettin' 
back  the  worth  of  it  in  the  best  of  everything, 
aitable,  or  drinkable?"  sez  Donal. 

"What?  my  whait!"  sez  the  curmudgeon, 
dancing  with  rage.  "Is  it  my  whait !  Is  it  send 
my  whait  to  the  town,  ye  villainous  scoun- 
drelly  " 

"Aisy,  aisy,  masther,"  sez  Donal.  "Aisy, 
avic,  are  ye  displaised  with  me?"  sez  he,  that 
way. 

Ah,  an'  by  the  boots  the  ould  fellow  didn't 
know  whether  it  was  on  his  head  or  his  heels 
he  was,  when  he  seen  he  was  cornered.  He 
changed  the  tune  all  at  wanst. 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  sez  he,  "I'm  right  well  plaised 
with  ye,  Donal." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  sez  Donal. 


Myles  and  Donal  McGarry     169 

"Maybe  you're  displaised  a  bit  with  me/'  sez 
he  to  Donal,  thinkin'  to  corner  him. 

"Not  by  no  mains,"  sez  Donal.  "Ye're  a 
bully  masther,  so  ye  are." 

Well,  that  fared  well,  and  the  ould  fellow 
wint  away  chokin'  with  rage,  an'  plottin'  an' 
plannin,  what  anondher  the  sun  he'd  do  to  catch 
Donal.  Me  brave  Donal  come  whistlin'  home 
and  wint  to  his  bed,  an'  the  nixt  mornin'  when 
he  got  up,  his  masther  comes  to  him,  and  he 
give  him  two  wild  horses,  and  sends  him  out  to 
plough  with  them,  and — 

''Donal,"  sez  he  pointin'  out  the  field  he  was 
to  go  ploughin'  in,  ''Donal,"  sez  he  "ye're  not  to 
leave  that  bit  of  a  field  till  ye  have  it  ploughed. 

"Well,  masther,"  sez  Donal,  sez  he,  "I'll  do 
me  best,  and  off  Donal  starts  with  the  horses  to 
the  field,  but,  phew!  if  Donal  was  workin'  at 
them  horses  from  that  time  till  now  could  he  get 
them  to  pull  in  the  plough.  Donal  soon  seen 
that  there  was  no  use  workin'  with  them  so 
down  he  sits  him  on  the  ditch,  and  started  up 
a  lively  lilt  for  company  till  he  sees,  comin* 
along  the  road,  a  hawker  with  two  miserable 
old  rickles  of  skin  and  bones  that  went  undher 


170  In  Chimney  Corners 

the  name  of  horses— they  were  broken  kneed, 
and  broken-winded,  and  broken-boned  and 
broken  in  everything  only  the  appetite,  and  their 
hides  was  as  white  with  stress  of  age  as  the  top 
of  Croagh  Gorm  on  a  Christmas  mornin',  and 
one  of  them  had  only  three  legs  dhrawin'  pay, 
and  the  other  of  them  had  a  cough  and  a  spit, 
and  together  they  were  like  a  walking  in- 
firm'ry,  and  when  the  hawker  dhrew  them  up 
opposite  where  Donal  was  ploughing  and  let 
them  lean  up  again'  each  other  to  rest,  sez 
Donal,  sez  he : 

"Them's  very  manageable  little  bastes  of 
yours,"  sez  he. 

"Well,  sure  enough,  I  can't  complain  of  their 
being  wild  that  way,"  sez  the  hawker. 

"What  do  you  think  if  you  had  these  two  fine 
black  horses  of  mine?"  sez  Donal. 

"I'd  be  afther  not  knowin'  meself  with 
*oride  if  I  had  them  spirited  animals,"  sez  he. 
"Quiet  bastes  like  this  pair  of  mine,"  sez  he,  "is 
all  very  well  in  their  way ;  but  when  they  come 
to  be  so  very  shy  and  backward  that  ye  must 
pull  them  down  wan  hill,  an'  push  them  up  the 


Myles  and  Donal  McGarry     171 

next,  that's  what  I  call,"  sez  he,  "too  much  of  a 

good  thing." 

"Right  ye  are,  me  good  man,"  sez  Donal. 
"An  if  ye  have  ten  poun'  on  ye,  I'll  take  that  of 
boot  an'  swap  w^ith  ye." 

"Done,"  sez  the  hawker. 

An'  then  an'  there  both  of  them  unloosed 
their  yokes  an'  Donal  got  the  ten  poun',  an' 
then  tackling  the  two  objects  that  it  was  a 
moral  to  see,  into  the  plough,  he  started  work  at 
once,  an'  when  his  master  comes  out  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  day  to  see  how  Donal  was  gettin'  on 
an'  seen  the  two  morals  that  he  was  sthrivin'  to 
drive  afore  him  in  the  plough,  it  was  hard  to 
say  whether  it  was  his  eyes  or  his  mouth  that 
he  opened  widest. 

"I  say  me  good  man,"  sez  he. 

"Say  away,"  sez  Donal,  layin'  on  the  bastes 
as  hard  as  he  could. 

"Where's  my  two  horses,  I  give  ye  this 
mornin'  ?" 

"Make  use  of  yer  eyes,"  sez  Donal,  sez  he, 
"an'  ye'll  see  them." 

"Get  out,   ye   scoundhril,"   sez  he,   "them 


172  In  Chimney  Corners 

white  scarecrows  aren't  mine.  My  horses  were 
black,"  sez  he. 

"Thrue  for  ye,  masther,"  sez  Donal,  "so 
they  were  black  this  morning;  but  they  were 
so  uncommon  hard  to  manage  that  I  have 
coloured  them  white  since  with  the  sweat  I  tuk 
out  iv  them." 

"To  the  dickens  with  that  for  a  story,"  sez 
the  ould  fellow,  sez  he,  jumpin'  at  Donal' s 
throat.  "Get  me  my  horses,  ye  ruffian  ye,  or  be 
this  an'  be  that,"  sez  he,  "I'll  not  leave  a  bone  in 
yer  body  I  won't  make  into  jelly,  ye  morodin' 
thief  ye !"  sez  he. 

"What,  what,  masther,"  sez  Donal,  sez  he, 
"sure  it's  not  angry  with  me  ye  are?** 

"Oh,  no,  no,  not  at  all,"  sez  he,  comin'  to  his 
senses  at  wanst — "not  at  all,"  sez  he,  "ye're  the 
best  boy  ever  I  had." 

"An  throgs,  an',"  sez  Donal,  sez  he,  "you're 
the  best  masther  iver  /  had." 

An'  away  the  masther  goes  with  his  mouth  in 
a  puss,  an'  away  goes  Donal  with  his  tongue 
in  his  cheek,  an'  got  his  breakwist,  an'  did  as 
he  liked  the  remainder  of  that  day. 

Well,  there  the  masther  was  in  a  purty 


Myles  and  Dqnal  McGarry     173 

pickle,  an*  he  didn't  know,  ondher  the  shinin' 
sun  what  to  do  with  Donal,  an'  he  said  to  him- 
self if  he  had  him  much  longer  Donal  would 
have  him  dead,  desthroyed,  ruinated  entirely, 
an'  robbed,  so  he  took  it  into  his  head  that  the 
best  thing  to  be  done  was  to  ordher  Donal  to 
go  to  the  woods  an'  catch  the  wild  loy-on  (lion) 
that  was  killin'  an'  desthroyin'  all  afore  him,  an' 
bring  him  alive  to  his  masther's  house.  "An'  if 
that  doesn't  settle  him,"  sez  the  masther,  sez 
he,  to  himself,  "I  don't  know  what  will." 

So,  gettin'  up  betimes  next  mornin',  he  calls 
Donal  in. 

"Donal,"  sez  he,  "there's  a  wild  loy-on  in  the 
woods  beyant,  an'  he's  murderin'  an'  killin'  all 
afore  him,  an'  I  want  you  go  and  catch  him, 
an'  lead  him  up  here  alive  afore  twelve  o'clock 
this  day,  or  if  ye  fail  to  do  that  I'll  have  ye 
beheaded  as  soon  as  ye  come  back." 

"All  right,"  sez  Donal,  sez  he,  "there's  no 
use  biddin'  the  divil  *good-morra'  'till  ye  meet 
him,  so  in  the  meantime  I'll  go  and  sthrive  to 
fetch  in  the  loy-on,  an'  we'll  talk  of  the  be- 
headin'  business  later." 
Off  for  the  woods  then  Donal  starts,  an'  when 


174  ^^  Chimney  Corners 

he  got  there,  down  on  the  stump  of  a  tree  me 
brave  Donal  sits,  with  his  considherin'  cap 
hke,  on  him,  an'  *'Donal,  me  lad,"  sez  he  to 
himself,  "ye  had  a  good  many  pulls  in  ye,  but 
ye' re  at  the  en'  o'  yer  tether  now ;  when  yerself, 
me  boy,  an'  the  wild  loy-on  meets  that  will  be 
the  last  pull,  an'  then,  och,  och!  the  Lord  be 
good  to  poor  Myles,  the  poor  boy  at  home, 
without  a  lug  on  him,"  sez  he,  '*och,  the  Good- 
man, pity  him,  what's  to  become  of  him  when 
I'm  gone?'* 

All  at  wanst  Donal  sees  a  little  red  man 
comin'  forrid  to  him  with  a  bridle  in  his  hand. 

"Ye  have  a  wee  throuble  on  yer  heart  ?"  sez 
the  wee  red  man,  sez  he,  when  he  come  forrid. 

"No  lie  for  ye,"  sez  Donal,  "I  have." 

"I  know  it  all,"  sez  the  wee  red  man,  "an' 
cheer  up,  for  I'll  pull  ye  through." 

"Is  it  you  ?"  sez  Donal,  sez  he,  lookin'  up  and 
down  the  wee  heighth  of  him  with  a  comical 
look;  for  disthressed  an'  all  as  he  was,  he 
couldn't  help  smilin'  to  himself  at  the  consait 
of  him.  "Is  it  you  to  pull  me  through?"  sez 
Donal,  sez  he. 

"Oh,  never  mind,"  sez  the  wee  red  man, 


Myles  and  Donal  McGarry     175 

"there's  people  isn't  to  be  judged  by  their  size," 
sez  he,  "I'm  under  obligations  to  your  family," 
sez  he,  ''an'  I'll  do  you  a  good  turn  now.  Take 
that  bridle,  an'  when  ye  meet  the  loy-on,"  sez 
he,  "shake  it  at  him,  and  he'll  be  as  meek  as  a 
mouse  till  ye  put  it  on  him  an'  lead  him  where 
ye  like.  But  take  that  auger,  too,"  sez  he,  "and 
when  ye've  caught  the  loy-on,  bore  a  hole  in 
the  biggest  tree  in  the  wood,  run  the  loy-on's 
tail  through  the  hole  an'  knot  it  on  the  other 
side.  Start  him  off  then  for  the  house,"  sez  he, 
an*  he  reached  the  bridle  an'  the  auger  to  Donal. 

Donal  was  all  dumbfoundhered  seein'  he'd 
made  light  of  the  little  red  man,  for  he  now 
saw,  sure  enough,  he  belonged  to  the  Good  Peo- 
ple, that  no  man  should  spake  or  say  ill  of  in 
their  hearin'.  But  off  he  starts,  with  the  bridle 
an'  the  auger,  an'  a  light  heart,  an'  he  soon  fell 
in  with  the  wild  loy-on  that  was  comin'  on  hot- 
foot, roarin'  an'  rampagin',  to  devore  Donal. 

"It's  hungry  ye  are  for  a  toothful,"  sez 
Donal,  sez  he,  "'an'  maybe  it's  not  just  do- 
in'  the  daicent  thing  to  disappoint  ye,"  sez  he. 
"But,"  sez  he,  shakin'  the  bridle  at  him,  "there's 
a  time  an'   place   for   everythin'   but   cuttin' 


176  In  Chimney  Corners 

corns;  an'  you'll  get  feedin'  enough  if  ye 
only  hould  on  till  I  fetch  ye  up  to  my  masther 
an'  his  ould  mother,"  sez  he. 

An',  sure  enough,  the  vartue  was  in  the 
bridle,  for  the  minnit  Donal  shuk  it  at  him  the 
loy-on  give  over  his  rampagin',  an'  let  Donal 
slip  the  bridle  on  him. 

"This  way,  now,  yer  worship,"  sez  Donal,  sez 
he,  leadin'  him  to  the  biggest  tree  in  the  wood, 
where  he  bored  a  hole  with  the  auger  an' 
knotted  the  loy-on's  tail  through  it,  an'  then 
touchin'  him  up,  started  off  for  the  house.  An' 
the  loy-on  dragged  up  the  big  tree,  an'  ten 
acres  of  land  that  stuck  to  the  roots  of  it,  an' 
off  to  the  house. 

But,  that  was  the  play,  when  Donal  come 
throttin'  up  to  the  house,  drivin'  the  wild  loy-on 
with  the  tree  and  ten  acres  of  land  to  his  tail, 
afore  him,  an'  whistlin'  like  vingeance,  *'Whin 
Johnny  comes  marchin'  home!"  Och-och,  but 
the  ould  boy  his  masther  was  in  the  devil's  own 
quandarry,  whin  Donal  pulled  up  the  devorin' 
brute  and  the  luggage  behind,  right  at  his  hall- 
doore,  same  as  you  might  pull  up  an  ass  an'  cart 
an'— 


» 


Myles  and  Donal  McGarry     177 

"Gwoh,  Johnnie/'  sez  Donal,  sez  he,  to  the 
loy-on. 

But,  me  sowl!  the  masther  didn't  wait  to 
say,  "It's  thankful  I  am,"  or  "'Tis  well  ye  done 
it,"  or  any  other  little  civility  of  the  sort  but 
slammin'  out  the  hall-door  an'  barrin',  boltin', 
an'  double-lockin'  it,  gallops  away,  an'  away  up 
the  stairs  to  the  top  o'  the  house,  an'  lookin'  out 
of  the  garret  windy. 

"Hilloa,  Donal,"  sez  he. 

"I'm  lindin'  ye  my  attintion  as  hard  as  I  can, 
sez  Donal. 

"Clear  off  out  o'  that,  ye  scoundhril  ye— yer- 
self  an'  that  brute  baste.  A  nice  article,  that," 
sez  he,  "to  fetch  to  a  man's  hall-doore." 

"Well,  whither  he's  purty  or  not,"  sez  Donal, 
sez  he,  "he's  as  God  left  him— an'  that's  a  quis- 
tion  by  itself.  But  as  for  takin'  him  away,  the 
bargain  was,  I  was  to  fetch  him  here;  but  ye 
forgot  to  put  in  a  coddy-stool*  that  I  was  to 
fetch  him  back;  so,  he's  here  now;  an'  here, 
with  the  help  of  the  Lord,  he'll  remain,  for,  so 
far  as  I'm  consamed,  the  sight  of  him  at  the 
hall-doore  doesn't  disturb  me  in  the  laste  little 

♦  Donal  meant  "the  codicil." 


178  In  Chimney  Corners 

bit,  an'  he  may  sit  on  his  hunkers  there  till  they 
make  a  guager  of  him,  for  all  I  care.  In  throgs, 
maybe  I  had  my  own  throuble  gettin'  round  the 
same  buck — puttin'  the  comether  on  him  first, 
an'  the  bridle  afther,  an'  maybe,  too,  afther  I 
had  the  bridle  on  him,  an'  all — maybe  it  would 
be  a  bit  pleasanter  job  to  ate  one's  breakwist 
than  to  fetch  the  same  lad  home,"  sez  Donal,  sez 
he. 

*'Oh,  but  Donal,  ye  know,  Donal,"  sez  the 
masther,  "sure  there'll  be  no  livin'  in  the  coun- 
thry  at  all,  at  all,  with  him,  if  he's  goin'  to  make 
his  sait  there  at  my  hall-doore,"  sez  he. 

"Well,  there  ye  are  now,  masther,"  sez 
Donal,  sez  he,  "an'  there's  the  loy-on,  an'  be- 
tween yerself  an'  him  be  it.  Maybe,"  sez  he, 
"if  ye  comed  down  an'  had  a  collogue  with  him, 
ye  might  be  able  to  raison  him  over,  an'  he 
might  see  his  way  to  get  up  an'  go  off,  himself 
and  his  applecart,  back  to  the  woods  again," 
sez  he,  "won't  ye  come  down,  an'  misure  logic 
with  him?"  sez  Donal. 

"Well,  troth,  an'  I'll  not  Donal,"  sez  the 
masther,  sez  he,  "thry  anything  o'  the  sort.  I 
don't  fancy  at  all,  at  all,  the  sort  of  logic  that's 


Myles  and  Donal  McGarry     179 

in  that  lad's  eye.  But  do  you,  Donal  avic,  like 
the  good,  daicent,  obligin'  boy  ye  always  were 

do  you  take  and  thurn  his  head  right  roun' 

and  laive  him  back  in  the  same  place  ye  tuk 
him  from,  an'  I'll  not  aisy  forget  it  to  ye;  an' 
moreover  nor  that,"  sez  he,  "I'll  niver,  niver 
more,  Donal,  ax  ye  to  do  anything  hard  or  con- 
thrairy  again,"  sez  he. 

'Thew!  not  if  I  know  it,"  sez  Donal.  *'Ifs 
the  dickens's  own  throuble  he  give  me  to  fetch 
him  here,  an'  as  I'm  no-wise  covetious  of  hon- 
ours I'll  give  some  other  man,"  sez  he,  "the 
privilege  of  laiving  him  back." 

"Donal,"  sez  the  masther,  sez  he,  "how  many 
poun'  over  an'  above  yer  wages  will  ye  take,  an' 
laive  him  the  spot  ye  fetched  him  from?" 

"Well,  masther,"  sez  Donal,  "like  Terry 
Hanney's  pig,  thon  (yon)  time— not  puttin'  the 
Christian  in  comparishment  with  the  pig — ye 
have  raison  with  ye  now.  Over  an'  above  me 
wages,  considherin'  the  mortial  troublesome  job 
I'm  goin'  to  give  meself,"  sez  Donal,  "I'll  have 
no  objection  in  the  world  to  takin'  fifty  poun'," 
sez  he,  "an'  laive  the  loy-on  the  spot  I  fetched 
him  from." 


l8o  In  Chimney  Corners 

"Donal,"  sez  the  masther,  "ye  couldn't  do  !l 
aisier." 

''Oh,  the  ding  a  aisier  I  could  do  it/*  sez  he. 
'*As  you  think  it  can  be  done  chaiper,  there  he 
is,  an'  just  say  yer  prayers,  an'  square  up  yer 
wee  accounts  betwixt  yerself  an  yer  sowl,  an* 
then  come  down  an'  start  in  on  him." 

"Oh,  for  the  sake  of  all  the  powers  ever  was 
cray-ated,"  sez  the  masther,  "don't  laive  go  of 
him  for  yer  life  an'  sowl.  Ye'll  have  the  fifty 
pounds,"  sez  he,  "with  a  heart  an'  a  half ;  only 
laive  him  back  where  I'll  nivir  see  a  sight  o' 
him  more,"  sez  he. 

"Me  jew'l,  are  ye,"  sez  Donal,  sez  he,  touch- 
in'  up  the  wild  loy-on,  "I'll  soon  rid  ye  o'  the 
menagerie;"  an'  in  a  jiffy  he  was  off,  himself 
an'  the  loy-on,  an'  the  wee  farm  at  their  tail  an* 
me  brave  Donal  niver  halted  till  he  left  back  the 
loy-on  at  the  very  identical  spot  he  caught 
him,  an'  onloosin'  his  tail  an'  takin'  the  bridle 
off  o'  him,  he  let  him  go,  an'  the  wee  red  man 
then  an'  there  appaired,  an'  Donal  handed  over 
the  bridle  to  him,  an'  thanked  him  from  his 
beart,  an*  the  both  o*  them  parted. 

Afther  all  this  was  over,  the  ould  masther 


Myles  and  Donal  McGarry     i8i 

had  a  great  consultation  entirely  with  his  ould 
mother  as  regards  what  they'd  do  with  Donal, 
or  how  they  were  to  get  him  away  at  all,  at  all, 
for  the  Ould  Fella  in  the  Lower  Counthry  could 
be  no  match  for  Donal;  that  he  was  a  scoun- 
dhril,  a  rogue,  an*  a  robber,  an'  that  if  they  had 
him  much  longer  they  wouldn't  maybe  be  able 
to  call  the  very  noses  on  their  faces  their  own ; 
an'  by  the  time  the  cuckoo'd  call,  it's  in  their 
cowld  graves  they'd  be  when  they'd  hear  it.  So 
they  made  up  a  plan  that  the  very  nixt  night 
they'd  have  a  regular  spree  an'  jollification,  an' 
invite  in  a  wheen  o'  the  naybours  an'  make 
Donal  right  hearty ;  and  in  the  middle  of  it  the 
ould  mother  would  go  out  an'  go  up  into  the 
bush  outside  the  house  an'  call  ''Cuckoo! 
cuckoo !  cuckoo !"  three  times,  an'  when  Donal 
would  hear  this — seein'  he'd  have  the  dhrop  in 
— ^he  wouldn't  know  the  differ,  but  what  it  was 
the  rale  cuckoo  that  was  callin',  an'  so  they'd 
make  him  pack  up  an'  go  in  the  mornin'. 

This  was  a  gran'  plan  entirely;  so  the  very 
nixt  night  they  had  g  great  spree,  an'  the  nay- 
bours was  axed  in,  an'  "Donal,"  sez  the  mas- 
ther,  sez  he,  "we'll  be  makin'  nowise  odd  o' 


1 82  In  Chimney  Corners 

you; ye  have  shown  yerself  a  good,  industhrous, 
obligatin'  boy,  that  only  for  ye  I  don't  know 
what  we'd  have  done  at  all,  at  all,"  sez  he,  "so 
ye'll  just  dhrop  in  an'  enjoy  the  night,"  sez  he, 
"like  any  other ;  for  we'd  like  to  show  ye  what- 
ever wee  kindness  we  could — meself  an'  me 
poor  ould  mother,"  sez  he. 

Donal  thanked  himself  an'  his  ould  mother, 
an'  sayed  he'd  surely  take  advantage  of  their 
very  nice,  kindly  invitation.  So  Donal  was  at 
the  spree,  an'  they  put  no  stint  of  good  sthrong 
whiskey  in  his  way  till  they  made  him  purty 
hearty ;  an'  then,  the  masther,  to  show  his  pride 
in  Donal — if  it  was  thrue  to  him — sez : 

"Donal,"  sez  he,  "could  ye  obligate  the  com- 
pany by  givin'  us  a  good  ould  Irish  song — one 
of  the  rale  ould  sort?"  sez  he. 

*'Lora  hainey,  I  can  that,"  sez  Donal,  "give 
them  one  of  the  rale  ould  style,"  sez  he,  an'  he 
stharted  up  'Tuirnne  Mhaire,"  or  ''Mary's 
Wheel,"  with  a  roll  that  fairly  put  the  company 
on  their  heads  with  delight,  they  niver  havin' 
heard  an  Irish  song  afore.  When  he  was  fin- 
ished, an'  his  masther  had  talked  all  sorts  of 
applause  to  him,  he  commenced  workin'  round 


Myles  and  Donal  McGarry     183 

to  prepare  him  for  the  cuckoo,  the  ould  mother 
havin'  gone  out  in  the  manetime  to  get  up  the 
bush — an'  faix,  a  purty  jinny-wran  she  was, 
an'— 

"Donal,"  sez  he,  *'it's  wearin'  round  torst 
the  time  of  year  we'd  be  partin'  now,  an'  I'm 
ver}^  sorry  for  it;  for,  throgs,  though  I  didn't 
make  no  great  bones  about  it,  I  had  an  oncom- 
mon  great  regard  for  ye,  an'  it's  I'll  be  the 
sorry  man  when  ye  go." 

"Faix  then,  masther,"  sez  Donal,  sez  he,  "I'll 
have  the  same  story  to  tell  meself.  But  I  don't 
care  if  I  engage  with  ye  another  tarm,  at  the 
same  bargain,"  sez  he. 

"Oh,  no,  no,  Donal,"  sez  he,  "that  would 
niver  do  at  all,  at  all;  me  mother  an'  me  isn't 
just  as  well  off  in  the  world  as  we  used  to  be, 
an'  I  think  we'll  have  to  give  up  keepin'  a  boy." 

"Oh,  anyhows,  cheer  up,"  sez  Donal,  sez  he, 
"it's  a  far  cry  yet  till  the  cuckoo  calls.  It's  but 
young  in  the  year  ye  know." 

"Oh,  ay,  but  Donal,  ye  know,  this  is  an  airly 
saison,  entirely,  an'  I  wouldn't  be  at  all  mis- 
moved  if  I'd  hear  the  cuckoo,  now,  any  minute. 
An',  more  by  the  same  token,"  sez  he,  "if  I 


184  In  Chimney  Corners 

wasn't  very  much  deludhered,  it  was  about  the 
shape  an'  size  of  a  cuckoo  I  obsarved  back  an' 
forrid  in  the  bushes  aback  o'  the  house  this  very 
eveninV'  sez  he. 

''Well,  by  the  patch  on  my  breeches,"  sez 
Donal,  sez  he,  "an'  that's  a  fairly  sizeable  oath, 
if  it  was  a  cuckoo  ye  saw,  an'  if  she  thries  to 
give  us  any  o'  her  lingo  in  this  naybourhood  for 
a  good  seven  weeks  to  come  yet,  she'll  be  afther 
wishin'  her  mother  was  dead-born,  when  I  have 
finished  with  her,"  sez  he. 

But,  patience  saize  me,  if  the  words  was  well 
out  of  his  mouth,  when  "Cuckoo!  Cuckoo! 
Cuckoo!"  was  called  three  siviral  times  from 
the  bush  at  the  end  o'  the  house,  an'  the  masther 
looked  at  Donal,  an'  Donal  raiched  for  the 
loaded  gun  that  was  standin'  in  a  corner;  an' 
afore  one  o'  the  company  could  say  "Do, 
Donal,"  or  "Don't,  Donal,"  he  was  out  through 
the  window,  an'  up  with  the  gun  to  his  shoul- 
dher,  an'  lets  bang  at  the  bush  the  cuckoo — if  it 
was  thrue  for  her — called  from,  an'  down 
tumbles  his  masther's  ould  mother,  head  fore- 
most, out  of  the  tree,  as  dead  as  a  salted  herrin'. 

An',  och,  there  was  then  the  roolie-hoolie. 


Myles  and  Donal  McGarry     185 

"Och,  ye  tarnation  black-hearted  rascal  ye/' 
sez  the  masther,  sez  he,  ''y^  have  done  it  at  last, 
ye  have  done  it  at  last !  Me  poor  innocent  ould 
mother!"  sez  he.  "Och,  ye  murdherin'  scoun- 
dhril  ye,  that  has  murdher  in  yer  heart,  murdher 
on  yer  face,  an* — worse  nor  all — murdher  on 
yer  villainous  hands  1" 

''Aisy,  aisy,  avic,"  sez  Donal,  sez  he,  ''surely 
ye're  not  by  any  mains  displaised  with  me,  are 
ye?"  sez  he. 

"Displaised  with  ye?"  sez  the  masther,  sez 
he,  black  in  the  face — "Is  it  displaised  with  ye? 
I'm  not  more  displaised,"  sez  he,  "with  the 
Ould  Fella  below,  himself,  sez  he,  "than  I  am 
with  ye,  ye  villain  ye !"  sez  he. 

"Thank  ye  for  that,"  sez  Donal,  sez  he, 
dancin*  with  delight.  "Down  on  yer  knees,"  sez 
he,  "till  I  get  them  handsome  pair  o'  lugs  off 
ye.  You  took  off  my  poor  brother  Myles's  lugs, 
an*  I  swore  Fd  be  revenged  on  ye;  so  ye  see  I 
kept  me  oath,"  sez  he. 

So,  there  the  ould  masther  had  nothin*  for 
it  but  go  down  on  his  two  knees  till  Donal  got 
the  wool-shears  an'  clipped  the  two  lugs  bare 
off  o'  him;  an*  then  gettin*  his  wages  an'  his 


1 86  In  Chimney  Corners 

fifty  poun'  over  an'  above,  he  tied  up  his  kit  in 
his  red  handkerchief,  slung  his  handkerchief  on 
the  point  of  his  stick,  put  his  stick  over  his 
shouldher,  an',  whistHn'  'The  Girl  I  Left  Be- 
hind Me,"  started  to  home  an'  to  Myles;  an' 
there  he  foun'  Myles  an'  the  farm  just  as  he  left 
them;  an'  he  then  with  his  money  bought  a 
naybourin'  bit  o'  Ian'  that  lay  into  his  own,  an' 
himself  an'  Myles  lived  the  rest  o'  their  lives  in 
full  an'  plinty,  as  happy  as  the  day  was  long. 
An'  that's  the  end  o'  Myles  McGarry  an' 
DoNAL  McGarry. 


Nanny  and  Coim 


NANNY  AND  CONN 


Once  on  a  time  there  was  a  woman  and  her 
man  named  Nanny  and  Conn,  and  they  lived 
together  quiet  and  agreeable,  in  peace,  comfort 
and  contentment  for  eighteen  years,  when  one 
day,  Conn  coming  from  the  potato  field  to  get  a 
bit  of  brakwust,  he  found  my  brave  Nanny  sit- 
ting in  the  chimney  corner  whillilew-ing  and 
pillillew-ing,  crying  the  very  eyes  out  of  her 
head.  When  Conn  came  in  she  put  her  apron 
to  her  eyes  and  fell  to  it  like  a  man  to  a  day's 
work.  *'Och,  Conn,  Conn!  Conn  darling!" 
says  she.  "Why  Nanny  ahasky,"  says  Conn, 
says  he,  "what's  the  matter  with  you  ?"  "Och, 
Conn,  Conn,  darling!"  says  she,  "but  it's  me 
has  the  sore  heart  this  morning,  thinking  how 
it's  now  eighteen  years  again'  Patrickmas  since 
we  were  made  man  and  wife,  and  yet  Provi- 
dence hasn't  sent  me  a  son  to  be  a  comfort  to 
me  now  in  my  old  age!  Och,  Conn,  Conn 
i8q 


190  In  Chimney  Corners 

darling!"  says  she,  "but  it's  the  sore  pity  of  md 
this  morning!  Ochon!  Ochon!"  "Well, 
by  my  boots,"  says  Conn,  says  he,  "but  this 
beats  me  entirely;  such  foolishness  I  never 
saw;  and  I  hope,"  says  he,  "that  I'll  see  no 
more  of  it — for  if  I  did,  Nanny,"  says  he,  "I 
couldn't  live  in  the  house  with  you,  if  you  were 
a  princess,"  and  with  that  Conn  turns  on  his 
heels  and  away  out  he  goes  to  his  work  again, 
brakwustless,  and  whistling,  "Father  Jack 
Walsh."  My  brave  Conn  wrought  away 
hard  at  his  spade  till  he  said  to  himself  it 
was  a  fair  dinner  time,  and  then,  sticking  the 
spade  in  the  ridge,  he  starts,  whistling,  for  the 
house  again,  wondering  to  himself  all  the  time 
if  Nanny  had  done  crying  yet  for  her  son.  But, 
what  would  you  have  of  it,  when  Conn  puts 
his  foot  on  the  threshel  there  was  Nanny 
on  one  side  and  a  neighbour  woman 
on  the  other;  their  two  knees  met  across  the 
fire,  with  no  sign  of  pot  or  pan  on  it,  or  any 
thing  else  that  a  hungry  man  would  be  expect- 
ing, and  the  both  of  them — och,  och,  och! — 
keening  and  ochoning,  one  louder  nor  another, 
that  you'd  think  the  roof  would  fly  off  with 


Nanny  and  Conn  191 

itself  away  off  the  house,  and  hard  to  tell  which 
of  the  two  of  them  was  the  worst.  Conn  gave 
a  sigh  and  sat  down  on  a  creepy  stool  in  the 
draught  of  the  door,  with  his  chin  on  his  fists 
and  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  and  he  looking 
wonderingly  from  the  one  to  the  other.  At 
last,  when  he  let  them  get  a  wee  bit  out  of 
breath,  he  found  his  opportunity,  and  says  he, 
that  way  quiet  and  easy  like,  ''Ma'am,"  says  he, 
''haven't  ye  done  with  your  foolish  crying  yet 
because  ye  didn't  get  a  son?"  says  he.  "Och, 
no,  Conn,  Conn,  Conn  darling!"  says  she, 
"thaf  s  not  what  we're  crying  about  now  at  all," 
says  she;  "but — och!  och!  och!  ochon! 
Sheelah  dear!  Sheelah  dear!  Conn  asthore! 
Conn  asthore! — it's  something  worse!  it's 
something  worse !"  "Well,  troth,"  says  Conn, 
relieved,  "I'm  glad  to  know  it's  worse.  What 
is  it  Nanny,  ahasky?"  says  he.  "Why,  you 
see,"  says  Nanny,  "och,  och!  ye  see,  it  was 
Sheelah  here,  good  woman,  that  come  into  me 
in  the  morning  to  know  what  I  was  crying 
about,  and  ochon!  ochon!  just  as  I  was  de- 
scribing it  to  her  doesn't  the  marly  hen  come 
Stepping  in  of  the  door  there  and  fly  up  on  th# 


192  In  Chimney  Corners 

roost  there,  and  just  as  she  gets  on  the  roost 
doesn't — och!  och!  ochon!  Conn,  Conn, 
machree!  I  can't  tell  it  to  ye!  Ochon,  ochon! 
As  the  hen  lit  on  the  roost  doesn't  the  roost,  bad 
cess  take  it  this  morning,  and  the  Lord  pardon 
me  for  cursing,  doesn't  the  roost  ochone.  Conn, 
Conn !  how  can  I  tell  it  to  ye  ? — doesn't  the  big 
roost  come  tumbling  down,  and  och.  Conn, 
ochon !  if  I  had  a  had  the  son  I  was  crying  for 
all  the  morning  the  poor  child's  cradle  would 
have  been  maybe  in  that  very  spot  that  the 
roost  came  down  on,  and  the  poor  innocent 
craythur  asleep  in  it,  an' — och.  Conn,  Conn, 
darling!  there  the  crathur  would  have  been 
killed  as  dead  as  a  sthone.  Och,  Conn,  Conn, 
Conn!  Conn,  ochone!  What's  this  to  do  at 
all  at  all?  Sheelah  a  nihilis!  Sheelah  a  mhilis! 
what's  this  to  do  ?"  And  there  the  two  of  them 
set  up  the  keen  again,  wringing  their  hands  and 
rocking  back  and  forward  across  the  fire.  Conn 
looked  on  dumbfounded  for  a  minute,  and  then 
jumping  up  off  the  creepy  and  standing  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor,  ''Well,"  says  he,  "that 
bangs  Banagher!  Such  two  foolish  idiots  I 
never  saw  in  my  life !  And  by  this  and  by  that," 


Nanny  and  Conn  193 

says  he,  "if  I  don't  start  out  this  minute,  and 
I'll  never  dirty  a  spade  in  the  ground  again,  nor 
neither  of  ye  will  never  see  my  face  more  till 
after  I  have  met  three  foolisher  people  than 
yous.  After  I  have  met  them  I'll  come  home; 
but  if  I  don't  meet  them  I'll  never  come  back — 
and  that's  the  most  likely.  Good-bye  to  yous, 
and  God  be  with  yous!"  So  spitting  on  his 
stick,  he  stepped  out  and  travelled  away  before 
him.  He  travelled  on,  and  on,  and  on,  till  he 
come  to  a  cabin,  where  there  was  the  dirtiest 
and  wrinkledest  and  wizenedest  old  woman  you 
ever  saw,  sitting  on  the  roadside  before  it,  and 
she  trying  to  sing  a  love  song  with  a  cracked 
voice;  but  she  was  dressed  out  with  ribbons 
that  had  all  the  colours  of  the  rainbow.  "God 
save  ye,  ma'am,"  says  Conn.  "God  save  yer- 
self,  kindly,"  says  she ;  "did  ye  see  ever  a  king 
coming  along  that  road?"  "A  what?"  says 
Conn.  "A  king,"  says  the  old  hag.  "The  king 
of  Ireland,"  says  she,  "is  now  travelling  over 
the  land  to  pick  out  the  beautifullest  girl  he  can 
get  to  be  his  wife,  and  I'm  sitting  here  waiting 
till  he'll  pass,  not  knowing  but  what  he'd  take  a 
laotion  of  myself.  For  ye  must  know,"  says  she, 


194  I^  Chimney  Corners 

"that  I  was  told  I  was  the  most  beautifullest 
girl  in  the  three  parishes."  ''When  was  that?" 
says  Conn,  "and  who  told  it  to  you?"  ''It  was 
three  and  sixty  years  ago,"  says  she,  "and  the 
lame  beggarman  told  it  to  me."  "And  how 
long,  my  good  woman,  have  you  been  sitting 
there?"  "Seven  weeks,  exactly,  again'  the  mor- 
row night,"  says  she.  "Well,  ma'am,"  says 
Conn,  "I'm  the  king  of  Ireland  travelling  in 
disguise,  and  I  have  now  travelled  over  the 
whole  of  my  dominions,  and  I  saw  many  rare 
beauties,  every  one  of  them  nicer  than  the  other, 
but  I  never  saw  them  I'd  put  before  yerself.  It 
fails  me  to  describe,"  says  he,  "the  beauty  of 
them  silver  locks  of  yours,  and  them  lovely 
eyes,  and  your  figure  and  face  is  beyond  com- 
pare; the  like  of  your  grace  I  never  saw  except 
in  a  born  queen,  while  as  for  your  complexion, 
it's  like  couldn't  be  found  in  Ireland  again," 
and  there  he  was  telling  no  lie  sure  enough.  The 
old  hag  was  all  overcome  with  delight  over  this. 
She  curtseyed  herself  down  to  the  ground,  and 
she  then  threw  her  skinny  arms  around  Conn's 
neck  and  said  she  was  his  for  evermore.  "And 
now,"  says  she,  "wouldn't  you  like  to  have  somi 


Nanny  and  Conn  I95\ 

nice  sweet  kisses?"  For  she  couldn't  get  at 
Conn's  mouth,  for  he  was  striving  to  keep  it 
as  far  away  from  her  as  he  could.  ''Well,  I 
don't  know,"  says  Conn.  ''You  see  the  truth 
of  it  is,  I've  been  so  accustomed  to  kissing  plain, 
ornery  looking  girls  since  I  set  on  my  journey 
— that's  plain  and  ornery  when  put  in  compari- 
son with  your  great  beauty — I  have  been  so  ac- 
customed kissing  this  sort  of  girls  that  I  would 
be  timorous.  The  sweetest  of  your  kisses,'* 
says  Conn,  "might  turn  my  head  intirely,  and 
leave  me  a  raving  man  for  the  rest  of  my 
life."  "Oh,  don't  be  afraid  of  that,"  says  she, 
"you  know  you  must  accustom  yourself  to  mine 
anyhow,  and  one  wee  one  will  do  ye  no  harm." 
"All  right  then,"  says  Conn,  "let  it  be  a  wee 
one."  And  then  he  held  his  cheek  to  her,  and 
she  gave  him  such  a  rousing  smack  as  was 
echoed  up  on  the  hills  and  sent  the  wild  goats 
running  helter-skelter  over  the  rocks  thinking 
someone  was  shooting  at  them.  "Now  ma'am,'* 
says  Conn,  says  he,  "I'm  a  bit  hungry,  seeing 
meat  didn't  cross  my  mouth  for  the  last  ten 
hours,  and  I  would  feel  obliged  if  you'd  take  me 
in  and  make  me  a  bit  of  something,  for  fasting 


196  In  Chimney  Corners 

doesn't  agree  with  a  king."  *'Ah  my  poor 
dear,"  says  she,  ''it's  dead  with  the  hunger  you 
must  be  entirely.  Come  in,  a  mhicj  and  ye' re 
welcome  to  the  best  my  poor  house  can  afford." 
So  she  took  him  in,  and  killed  her  fattest  lamb, 
and  put  on  a  blazing  big  fire  of  fir  and  bog-oak, 
and  roasted  the  lamb  whole,  and  set  it  and  a  jar 
of  whiskey  before  Conn.  And  my  brave  Conn 
ate  like  a  man  who  had  been  fasting,  not  ten 
hours,  but  ten  days,  and  he  drunk  like  a  man 
that  hadn't  drunk  since  he  was  weaned, 
and  then  he  got  up,  and  brushing  down 
the  crumbs  off  himself  said  he  was  going  away 
straight  back  to  his  palace  now  to  get  on  a 
daicent  suit  of  clothes,  and  come  back  with  a 
bishop  and  a  rajimint  of  soldiers  to  marry  her. 
She  was  delighted,  and  she  wanted  to  kiss  Conn 
going  away,  but  Conn  staggered  with  all  the 
whiskey  he  had  in  him,  and  *'No,  no,  ma'am," 
says  he,  "don't  ye  see  that  first  kiss  is  in  my 
head  yet."  So  off  he  started,  himself  and  his 
stick,  and  says  he  to  himself  as  he  went  along, 
"Well,  Nanny,"  says  he,  "there's  one  foolisher 
body  in  the  world  than  you  anyhow,  but  still 
I  much    misdoubt  me  if  I  can  get  another." 


Nanny  and  Conn  197 

Conn  travelled  on,  and  on,  and  on,  till  he  come 
to  a  house  where  he  found  a  man  having  his  son 
helping  him  to  get  under  a  mule  and  lift  it  up. 
"God  save  yez,  and  good  luck  to  the  work," 
says  Conn.  "God  save  ye  kindly,"  says  the 
man  back  again  to  him,  "and  thank  ye." 
"Could  I  be  of  any  sarvice  to  ye?"  says  Conn. 
"If  I  can  ye  have  only  to  say  it."  "Thank  ye, 
kindly,"  says  the  man  back  again  to  him,  "ye 
can."  "May  I  ax  what  do  ye  want  to  do," 
says  Conn.  "Why,"  says  the  man,  "it's  in  re- 
gards of  them  fine  long  bunches  of  grass  ye  see 
growing  across  the  roof  of  the  house; 
it's  a  sin,  sure,  to  see  them  going  to  loss,  and  I 
want  to  put  up  the  mule  till  he  eats  it."  "And," 
says  Conn,  says  he,  "could  ye  find  no  more  con- 
vaynient  way  of  letting  the  mule  eat  the  grass 
than  that?"  "I  could  not,"  says  the  man. 
"What  do  ye  think,"  says  Conn,  says  he,  "if  I 
could  point  out  a  way  that  would  make  your 
mule  benefit  from  the  grass  without  any  trouble 
to  you."  "Well,"  says  the  man,  says  he,  "I 
would  think  you  would  be  a  mighty  great 
genius  entirely;  and  it  would  be  mortal  obli- 
gating to  me  if  ^ou  could."     "What  will  you 


198  In  Chimney  Corners 

give  me,  and  I  will  ?"  says  Conn.  "Why/*  says 
the  man,  "it  would  be  of  very  great  use  to 
me  entirely,  and  save  me  all  the  trouble  in  the 
world;  for,  at  least  half  a  dozen  times  in  the 
year,  every  year,  I  have  to  do  this,  and  I  have 
killed  five  of  my  sons  at  it  already,  and  there's 
the  sixth  and  the  last,  and  he'll  soon  go  too; 
and  ril  be  dead  myself  next  with  the  weight  of 
that  mule  lifting  him,  and  holding  him  up  till  he 
eats  the  grass.  I'll  give  ye  the  mule  and  the 
slide-car,"  says  he,  "if  ye  take  it,  and  tell  me  an 
easier  plan."  "It's  a  bargain,"  says  Conn.  And 
then  and  there  he  told  him  to  go  up  on  the 
house  himself  and  cut  the  grass,  and  carry  it 
down,  and  give  it  to  the  mule.  "By  the  hokey," 
says  the  man,  says  he,  "but  you're  right."  Then 
Conn  took  the  mule  and  the  man  and  his  son 
hooked  him  into  the  slide-car  for  him,  and  into 
the  slide-car  he  got,  and  started  off.  "Well, 
Nanny,"  says  Conn  to  himself,  as  he  drove 
along — "Well,  Nanny,"  says  he  to  himself, 
"there's  two  foolisher  people  in  the  world  than 
you  anyhow,  but  I  misdoubt  me  much  if  I'll  be 
able  to  find  a  third."  So  he  drove  on,  and  on, 
and  on,  till  he  come  to  a  wee  cabin  on  the  road- 


Nanny  and  Conn  199 

side  after  night,  and  pulling  up  the  mule  he 
went  in,  and  found  no  one  but  an  old  woman  in 
the  house,  and  she  was  so  busy  down  on  her 
knees  blowing  the  fire  that  she  didn't  see  Conn 
coming  in.  So  down  he  sat  on  a  seat  till  she 
would  be  done.  "Well,  musha,  on  ye  for  a 
fire,"  says  she,  "that  ye  can't  light;  I  must  put 
a  bit  of  tallow  into  ye."  So  getting  up  to  get 
the  tallow  she  sees  Conn  seated  on  the  chair. 
"The  Lord  protect  me,"  says  she,  frightened, 
"where  did  you  come  from  ?"  "From  Heaven," 
says  Conn.  "What,  from  Heaven?"  says  she 
— "and  did  you  see  my  Manis  up  there  ?"  "Yes, 
I  did,  ma'am,  surely,"  says  he.  "I'll  warrant 
ye,  he's  as  contentious  as  ever?"  says  she. 
"Troth,  and  he  is,"  says  Conn,  "there  isn't  a 
door  in  it  he  hasn't  in  smithereens."  "See  that 
now,"  says  she,  "looking  for  whiskey,  I  sup- 
pose?" "The  very  thing,"  says  Conn;  "how 
did  ye  know."  "Ah,  poor  Manis,"  says  she, 
was  always  fond  of  the  wee  dhrap.  I  suppose  I 
will  have  to  send  him  up  some,"  says  she;  "Is 
there  any  allowed  in?"  "Oh,  sartinly,  sartinly," 
says  Conn,  "we  must  allow  it  in  for  him,  or  hfy 
v/on't  leave  a  sound  boord  about  the  whole  es- 


200  In  Chimney  Corners 

tablishment  he  won't  smash."  "Oh,  every 
stick  and  stave/'  says  she;  "that's  him.  I  have 
just  got  a  wee  five  gallon  here,"  says  she;  "do 
you  think  you  could  manage  it  up  ?"  "As  right 
as  the  mail,  ma'am,"  says  Conn ;  "I  have  a  mule 
and  a  slide-car  down  with  me."  "Oh,  then,  if 
ye  have,"  says  she,  "maybe  ye  could  fetch  him 
some  other  little  things,  too."  "With  every 
pleasure,  ma'am,"  says  Conn.  "Does  Manis 
complain  of  the  cold?"  says  she.  "He's  just  par- 
ishing,  ma'am,"  says  Conn.  "Oh,  that's  just 
Manis  for  ye,"  says  she;  "he  was  never  done 
complaining  of  the  cold.  Don't  ye  think  hadn't 
ye  better  take  him  up  his  overcoat?"  "I  think 
it  would  be  no  harm,"  says  Conn.  "Is  he  as 
fond  of  butter  as  ever?"  says  she.  "He  couldn't 
live  without  it,  ma'am,"  says  Conn.  "Oh,  that's 
just  him — that's  just  Manis  on  the  sod,"  says 
she;  "ye  had  better  take  him  up  that  little  fir- 
kin." "Surely,  ma'am,"  says  Conn.  "He  used 
to  be  very  fond  of  a  rasher  of  bacon,"  says  she. 
"It's  the  very  last  thing  he  mentioned  to  me  not 
to  forget,"  says  Conn.  "He's  shouting,"  says 
he,  "for  a  rasher  and  eggs  yonder  every  morn- 
ing he  rises;   but  the  sorra  saize  the  like  of 


Nanny  and  Conn  201 

cither  is  to  be  found  in  that  country."  'Toor 
man,"  says  she,  ''that  place  doesn't  agree  with 
him  at  all,  at  all.  There,  just  take  up  that  side  of 
a  pig  with  you,  and  here's  a  couple  of  dozen  of 
eggs,  too.  I'm  troubling  you  too  much,  good 
man,"  says  she,  "or  I'd  be  after  asking  ye  to 
take  a  few  other  wee  things."  "Don't  mention 
the  trouble  at  all,  ma'am,"  says  Conn ;  "I.  as- 
sure ye  it's  only  a  pleasure  to  me.  As  far  as 
the  mule  can  draw  don't  spare  him,  and  after 
that,  pile  on  to  myself,"  says  he.  "Well  I  must 
say,"  says  she,  stirring  herself  about  the  house 
and  getting  together  a  lot  of  wee  needcessities, 
eatables  and  drinkables  and  clothes,  "I  must 
say,"  says  she,  "you're  a  mighty  obliging  man," 
and  she  commenced  piling  the  things  on  the 
mule  till  his  back  was  bending  down  with  the 
load.  "Now,"  says  she,  "I  think  that  should 
keep  Manis's  mouth  shut  for  a  month  of  Sun- 
days, anyhow.  God  speed  ye,"  says  she  to  Conn, 
"and  thanky,  and  remember  me  to  Manis." 
"Thank  yourself,  good  woman,"  says  Conn, 
"and  the  grace  of  God  be  about  ye.  Manis 
won't  forget  ye  easy,  I'll  warrant  ye,  and  he'll 
be  surely  thankful  for  these  things — when  he 


202  In  Chimney  Corners 

gets  them."     So  off  my  brave  Conn  starts,  now 
in  the  direction  of  his  home;   and  he  travelled 
on,  and  on,  and  on,  whistling  and  singing,  and 
eating  and  drinking  and  going  on,  and  on,  and 
on,  till  at  length  when  he  was  coming  near 
home  he  finds  the  thiraw*  coming  behind  him, 
and  looking  back  on  the  top  of  a  hill  he  sees  the 
old  woman  he  met  at  first,  and  the  man  he  took 
the  mule  from,  and  the  last  woman  he  met, 
all  hurry-skurrying  behind  him  with  sticks  and 
staves.   So  he  saw  they  had  found  out  he  was 
tricking  them,  and  were  coming  after  him  to 
take  his  life.     Conn  drew  the  mule  and  cart 
into  a  thick  wood,  where  he  hid  them;    and 
then  turning  his  coat  he  commenced    cutting 
scollops.     It  wasn't  many  minutes  till  the  hunt 
was  up  with  him.     "My  good  man,"  said  they, 
"did  you  see  a  man  with  a  mule  and  cart  passing 
this  way  a  couple  of  minutes  ago?"     "I  did," 
says    Conn;    "a  daicent-looking    man  with  a 
brown  coat."  "Oh  that's  him,"  says  they,  "but 
his  looks  belies  him ;  he  isn't  as  daicent  as  he  is 
daicent-looking.     So  signs  on  it  ye  had  nothing 
to  do  with  him  or  ye'd  have  another  story  to 
*  Hubbub. 


Nanny  and  Conn  203 

tell.  Tell  us  what  way  he  went  till  we  take  his 
life."  "Oh,"  says  Conn,  ''yez  are  too  late  for 
that  now,  for  just  as  he  was  passing  by  here — 
do  ye  see  that  black  cloud  off  there  to  the  nor*- 
aist?"  "We  do,  we  do,"  says  they;  "what 
about  that?"  "Why  that  same  cloud,"  says 
Conn,  says  he,  "just  as  he  was  passing  by  here, 
that  very  same  cloud  came  dow^n  and  carried 
himself,  the  mule  and  cart  right  away  up  to 
heaven  before  my  eyes,"  says  Conn.  "See  that 
now,"  says  they;  and  they  threw  down  their 
sticks,  and  turned  and  went  away  home  again. 
Then  Conn  got  out  his  mule  and  his  load,  and 
started  afresh  for  home,  and  it's  Nanny  was  de- 
lighted to  see  him,  and  maybe,  too,  it's  him 
wasn't  delighted  to  see  Nanny,  and  he  unpacked 
his  load  and  gave  Nanny  as  much  as  would  feed 
the  two  of  them  for  twelve  months  to  come. 
"And  now,"  says  he,  "Nanny,  I'm  back  content 
and  willing  to  live  with  you  for  the  remainder 
of  my  days,  for  I  met  three  such  fools  that  you 
would  be  a  wise  woman  compared  with  them — 
foolish  and  all  as  ye  are."  And  Nanny  and 
Conn  lived  a  happy  life  ever  afther ;  and  Conn 


204  In  Chimney  Corners 

was  never  tired  of  telling  that  no  matter  how 
foolish  anyone  was  there  was  far  foolisher  to 
be  met  in  the  world,  and  them  was  the  truest 
words  ever  he  omitted. 


The  Apprentice  Thief 


"Now  Billy  Brogan,"  says  "the  king  says  he,  "what: 
is  your  son  Jack  going  to  turn  his  hands  to  ?  ' 


THE  APPRENTICE  THIEF 


It  was  a  lee  long  time  ago  when  ould  Ireland 
was  happy  and  contented,  with  lavin's  and 
lashin's — plenty  to  ait  and  little  to  do ;  and  we 
had  our  own  kings — half-a-dozen  of  them  in 
every  county — and  our  own  Parlymint,  and  we 
had  mines  of  all  sorts  and  descriptions,  both 
coal  and  copper  and  silver  and  goold — and, 
more  betoken,  the  guineas  was  as  common  as 
tenpennies;  and  the  farmers  had  fields  of 
wheat  that  it  was  a  day's  journey  to  walk 
over,  and  the  smell  of  them  was  a'most  enough 
to  satisfy  a  hungry  man,  if  the  like  could  be 
207 


>io8  In  Chimney  Corners 

.found  in  the  kingdom — but  that  would  be  on- 
possible,  barrin'  on  a  fast  day,  when  (the  ould 
sinners  that  they  were!)  they  used  to  schame  it 
by  goin'  out  and  sniftherin*  up  the  smell  of  the 
wheat,  andfillin'  themselves  (the  villains!)  that 
way,  till  their  fren's  would  a'most  have  to 
sweel  some  of  them  (the  rascals)  with 
ropes,  for  feared  they'd  bust ;  and  the  blight  or 
the  rot  was  nivir  known  on  the  praties,  and  they 
had  tatties  that  big  (the  Cups,  they  called 
them)  that  I  heerd  me  gran' father  say 
that  he  heered  his  gran' father  say  that 
he  heerd  his  great  gran' father  (I  wish 
him  rest!)  tellin'  him,  that  in  the  har- 
vest time  they  often  scooped  wan  of 
them  out,  and  put  to  say  in  it  to  fish  for  mack- 
erel— and  more  betoken,  the  say  in  them  days 
swarmed  with  every  description  of  fish  that 
ever  put  a  fin  in  wather,  and  the  fishermen  never 
used  hook  or  net,  but  just  baled  the  fishes  into 
their  boats  with  an  ould  bucket.  Well,  how- 
andivir,  it  was  in  them  glor'us  days  of  full  and 
plenty  that  Billy  Brogan  lived  as  a  sort  of  a 
cotthar  to  the  King  of  Ballyshanny,  and  Billy 
Jiad  one  son,  Jack,  that  turned  out  to  be  very 


The  Apprentice  Thief        209 

handy  like  with  his  fingers  when  he  wanted 
anything  that  didn't  belong  to  him.  Well,  that 
fared  well  till  Jack  grew  up  to  be  a  stout,  strap- 
pin',  able  lump  of  a  garsun,  when  the  king 
comes  to  ould  Billy,  his  father,  to  make  com- 
plaints on  Jack,  seein'  that  he  wasn't  leaving  a 
movable  thing  about  his  castle  or  grounds  but 
he  was  hoising  off  wid  him. 

"Now,  Billy  Brogan,"  says  the  king,  says  he, 
"what  is  your  son  Jack  going  to  turn  his  hands 
to?" 

"Why,  yer  highness,"  says  Billy,  that  way, 
back  to  him,  "throgs,  I  think  he'll  turn  his  hand 
to  anything  you  laive  in  his  way." 

"Och !  I  know  that,"  says  the  king,  says  he, 
"to  my  own  cost;  but  I  mean  to  say  it's  near 
time  you  were  thinkin'  of  givin'  him  a  thrade, 
for  the  short  and  the  long  of  it  is,  that  I  won't 
have  him  about  my  house  or  place,  longer.  I 
caught  him,"  says  he,  "only  last  night  thrying 
to  carry  off  the  best  mare  I  have  in  my  stables, 
Light-o'-foot,  and  that,  you  know,  is  high 
thrayson;  and  ye  know  that  the  lightest  pun- 
ishment for  high  thrayson  is  to  be  burned,  be- 
headed and  hung.    But  I'll  pardon  him  on  con- 


21  o  In  Chimney  Corners 

ditions  that  you  put  him  to  a  thrade  at  wanst, 
and  that  at  the  end  of  three  years  he'll  be  so 
parfect  at  the  thrade  that  I  can't  puzzle  him  in 
any  three  things  I'll  put  afore  him  to  do ;  but  if 
there's  any  one  of  them  he  can't  do,  he'll  have 
to  suffer  his  fate  for  high  thrayson." 

"Why,  yer  kingship,"  says  Billy,  "the  tarms 
is  mortial  hard,  stillandiver  we'll  have  to  do  our 
best,  and  sure  the  best  can  do  no  more.  But 
what  thrade  will  I  'prentice  him  to  ?" 

"As  for  that,"  says  the  king,  says  he, 
"plaise  yourself,  only  mind  my  conditions." 

"Well,"  says  Billy,  says  he,  in  a  brown  study 
that  way,  "I  think  the  only  thrade  that  ever  I 
could  make  an  honest  thradesman  of  him  at, 
would  be  a  thief,  for  I  think  it's  the  only  one 
he  has  the  inclinations  for." 

"Plaise  yerself,  Billy,"  says  the  king  back  to 
him  again,  "only  mind  my  conditions." 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  Billy  thramped 
off  and  found  Jack,  and  tould  him  what  the 
king  of  the  castle  was  afther  saying. 

"Well,  father,"  says  Jack,  says  he,  "what 
can't  be  cured  must  be  indured,  so  you'd  betther 
be  up  betimes  in  the  mornin',  an'  come  along 


The  Apprentice  Thief        211 

with  me  till  we  meet  some  daicent  thief  that's 
masther  of  his  thrade  that  you'll  'prentice  me 
to,  for  between  ourselves  I  was  long  szvitherin' 
to  go  an'  larn  the  thrade  properly  anyhow,  for 
though  they  say  that  a  self-made  man  is  the 
best,  still  in  this  back'ard  place  one  has  to  work 
under  a  great  many  disadvantages  in  the  up- 
hill part  of  the  business,  so  that  there's  often  I 
would  have  given  my  one  eye  for  a  couple  of 
good  hints  from  a  purficient  in  the  thrade." 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  Jack  and  his 
father  took  the  road  early  next  mornin  ,  and 
a  weary  travel  they  had  of  it  that  day  through 
a  strange  country  till  tor'st  night  they  come  to 
an  inn  where  there  was  entertainment  for  man 
and  baste — and  for  boys  too — and  they  put  up 
there  that  night,  and  slept  sound  I  can  tell  ye, 
and,  moreover,  when  Billy  payed  the  landlord 
the  damage  next  mornin',  doesn't  my  brave 
Jack  stale  twicet  as  much  back  again  out  of  the 
till  before  he  left.  Well  they  started  that  morn- 
ing again  and  travelled  on,  and  on,  of  a  hot 
summer's  day,  when  tor'st  evening  who  did 
they  meet  but  the  mastherman  thief  of  all  that 
counthry,  and  there  and  then  Billy  bound  over 


212  In  Chimney  Corners 

Jack  to  him  for  three  years ;  and  he  gave  Jack 
his  bUssin'  and  told  him  make  the  most  of  his 
opportunities,  and  to  always  keep  before  his  eyes 
the  fear  of  what  he'd  meet  with  from  the  King 
of  Ballyshanny  when  he'd  come  back  if  he 
wasn't  masther  of  his  trade.  Jack  promised 
faithfully  that  it  wouldn't  be  his  fault  or  he'd 
know  the  ins  and  the  outs  of  the  business  so  far 
as  the  ould  buck  that  he  was  'prenticed  to  could 
put  him.  Billy  then  set  out  for  home  again,  and 
there  was  nothing  more  heerd  of  me  brave  Jack 
till  the  three  years  was  up. 

They  weren't  long  in  passing,  and  on  the  day 
afther  the  end  of  the  three  years  Jack  comes 
steppin'  into  his  father's  house;  and  Billy,  I  can 
tell  you,  was  delighted  to  see  him.  He  hardly 
knew  him,  for  he  had  grown  to  be  as  fine  and 
able  lookin'  a  man  as  you'd  meet  in  the  longest 
day  in  summer. 

"Jack,"  says  his  father,  says  he,  throwin'  his 
arms  about  him,  "have  ye  larned  yer  thrade?" 

"I  hope  I  have,  father,"  says  he. 

"Jack,  ahaskey,"  says  the  father,  "you  know 
what  the  king  has  promised  if  ye're  not  able  to 
do  the  three  things  he  puts  afore  ye  ?" 


The  Apprentice  Thief         213 

"Yes,  father/'  says  Jack ;  "and  I'll  do  my  best 
to  do  them,  and,  as  yourself  says,  sure  the  best 
can  do  no  more." 

Well,  that  evening  the  father  took  Jack  up 
to  the  castle,  and  when  the  king  come  out  he 
told  him  that  this  was  Jack  come  home  again 
afther  sarvin'  his  'prenticeship,  and  he  had  the 
thrade  back  with  him. 

"Why,  Jack,"  says  the  king,  "it's  welcome 
ye  are,  in  troth — ceiid  mile  failte  romhat —  and 
it's  fresh  and  bloomin'  ye're  lookin' — what 
speed  did  ye  come  at  yer  thrade?" 

"Why,  thank  ye  kindly,  yer  highness,"  says 
Jack,  "I  can't  complain  at  all;  I  think  I  done 
very  fairly  for  my  time — at  laist,  that  was  my 
masther's  opinion,  and  he's  not  the  worst 
judge;"  for,  ye  see,  Jack  was  modest  and  didn't 
care  for  puffin'  and  blowin'  about  himself. 

"Well,  it's  well  for  ye,  Jack,"  says  the  king 
back  to  him,  "for  the  three  thrials  I'll  put  afore 
ye  will  be  no  miss,  I  assure  ye." 

"Well,  yer  kingship,"  says  Jack,  "I'll  feel 
honoured  to  do  what  I  can  for  ye.  Would  yer 
highness  be  plaised  to  let  me  know  the  first,  for 


214         In  Chimney  Corners 

it's  as  well  to  get  the  onpleasant  business  over  at 
wanst?'' 

"The  first  thing,  Jack,  you'll  have  to  do," 
says  the  king,  ''is  this:  To-morrow  morning 
I'll  send  out  a  plough  and  two  horses  to  plough 
the  tattie  field  at  the  back  of  the  hill,  and  I'll 
send  two  men  with  them,  armed  to  the  teeth; 
and  you'll  have  to  stale  the  two  horses  out  of 
the  plough  unknownst  to  the  men,  and  if  ye  let 
to-morrow  night  fall  on  ye  without  having  the 
horses  stolen  you'll  undhergo  the  punishment 
for  high  thrayson — you'll  be  burned,  beheaded 
and  hung ;  and  this  time  to-morrow  I  hope  to  be 
feasting  my  eyes  on  your  head  stuck  on  the 
porch  of  that  gate  there.  Do  you  think  will  ye 
be  able  to  succeed.  Jack?"  says  he,  laughing 
hearty. 

''Why,  yer  highness,"  says  Jack,  "sure  I'll 
do  my  best,  and  the  best  can  do  no  more." 

Jack  and  his  father  went  home;  the  father 
very  downhearted  entirely,  seein'  that  there 
didn't  seem  to  be  any  chance  for  poor  Jack  at 
all;  and  he  thought  he'd  see  him  burned,  be- 
headed, and  hung  before  his  eyes  the  next 
night 


The  Apprentice  Thief        215 

Jack  didn't  say  much,  but  went  to  bed  and 
slept  sound.     He  was  up  with  the  lark  next 
mornin',  and  away  out  through  the  fields.    He 
searched  the  meadows  till  he  come  on  a  hare 
asleep,  and  catching  it  he  broke  one  of  its  legs, 
and  fetched  it  home  with  him.     The  king  sent 
out  the  two  horses  according  to  his  promise  to 
plough  the  tattie  field,  and  he  sent  with  them 
two  men  armed  to  the  teeth,  who  had  sthrict 
ordhers  that  Jack  Brogan  would  attempt  to 
stale  the  horses  out  of  the  plough  that  day,  but 
they  weren't  to  allow  him  on  the  paril  of  their 
lives,  but  were  to  shoot  him  if  he  thried;  and 
if  they  allowed  him  to  stale  the  horses,  they 
would  be  hung  to  the  first  bush  themselves. 
Well,  of  course,  they  had  their  eyes  about  them, 
and  plt/Ughed,  and  ploughed  away  till  even- 
ing, and  no  sign  of  Jack;  so  they  agreed  that 
Jack  had  too  much  wit  to  run  the  risk  of  gettin' 
shot,  that  he  had  given  up  the  thing  in  despair, 
and  had  gone  and  dhrownded  himself.     With 
that  they  sees  a  hare  with  a  broken  leg  coming 
over  the  ditch,  and  away  limpin'  across  the  field 
before  them.     Whirroo!  both  of  them  throws 
down  their  guns  and  swords  and  afther  that 


2i6         In  Chimney  Corners 

hare  for  bare  life.  They  didn't  go  far  till  they 
caught  it,  but  when  they  come  back  the  horses 
was  gone,  as  clane  as  if  they  had  nivir  been 
there,  and  Jack  was  half  roads  to  the  castle 
with  them.  He  met  the  king  at  the  gate  and 
handed  him  over  his  horses. 

"Well,  Jack,"  said  the  king — and  I  can  tell 
you  he  opened  his  eyes  wide  when  he  sees  Jack 
marchin'  up  to  him  with  the  horses — ''well. 
Jack,"  says  he,  "ye  done  that  cliverly,  but  them 
rascals  have  been  too  slack  with  ye,  and  I'll  take 
ye  in  hands  myself  now.  The  second  thing  ye'll 
have  to  do — and  it's  no  miss — is  to  steal  the 
sheet  that  will  be  undher  myself  and  the  queen 
when  we  are  sleeping  to-morrow  night.  I'll 
keep  my  hand  on  a  loaded  gun  all  night,  and 
the  first  man  enthers  my  room  I'll  shoot  him 
dead,  and  if  ye  don't  succeed  in  stalin'  it,  ye 
know  what'll  happen  ye.  What  do  you  think 
of  that.  Jack?" 

"Well,"  says  Jack,  "I'll  do  my  best,  and  sure 
ye  know  the  best  can  do  no  more." 

Then  the  king  was  off  to  ordher  out  his 
sojers  to  hang  the  two  men,  and  away  went 
Jack  home,  and  you  may  be  sure  his  father  was 


The  Apprentice  Thief        217 

proud  to  see  him  back  safe,  but  when  Jack  tould 
him  the  second  thrial,  he  got  down-hearted 
again,  and  said  he'd  surely  lose  his  boy  this 
time. 

Jack  said  nothin',  but  went  to  his  bed  and 
slept  sound  that  night  again ;  and  the  next  night 
he  went  to  the  graveyard  and  dug  up  a  fresh 
corp  about  the  same  age  as  himself,  and  taking 
it  home  he  dhressed  it  in  a  shoot  of  his  own 
clothes,  and  started  for  the  castle  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,  and  gettin!  undher  the  king's  bed- 
room window,  he  hoisted  up  the  corp,  and  at 
the  same  time  threw  gravel  again  the  panes. 

"What's  that?"  says  the  king,  jumping  up 
in  his  bed ;  and  seeing  the  head  at  the  window 
he  fired,  and  Jack,  with  that,  let  the  corp  fall. 

"Ha,  ha,"  says  the  king,  "I  was  too  able  for 
ye.  Jack,  my  boy;  ye' re  done  for  at  length,  and 
it's  yer  desarvin'.  Now,  queen,"  says  he  to  her 
ladyship,  "I'll  have  to  run  out  and  bury  this 
Corp." 

Jack  waited  till  he  saw  the  king  safe  away 
with  the  corp,  and  then  he  climbed  in  of  the 
window. 


'2 1 8  In  Chimney  Corners 

"You  weren't  long  away,  king,"  says  her 
ladyship  from  the  bed. 

"Oh,"  says  Jack,  purtendin'  the  king's  voice, 
"I  kem  back  for  the  sheet  to  wTap  up  the  corp 
in  an'  carry  him  to  the  graveyard." 

And  sure  enough,  she  hands  it  to  him  to  wrap 
round  the  corp,  and  me  brave  Jack  steps  out  of 
the  window  and  away  with  him. 

It  wasn't  long  afther  till  the  king  come  in 
with  his  teeth  chattherin',  and  steps  into  bed. 

''Where's  the  sheet?"  he  cried,  jumpin'  up  as 
soon  as  he  missed  it. 

''Why,  ye  amadan,"  says  the  queen,  "didn't 
ye  come  back  and  say  you  wanted  it  to  wrap  up 
the  corp  and  carry  it  to  the  graveyard." 

"Oh,  Jack — Jack,"  says  the  king,  lying  back 
in  his  bed  again,  "you  have  thricked  me  wanst 
more !  But,  plaise  Providence,  that  will  be  the 
last  time." 

Next  day  Jack  come  to  the  castle  with  the 
sheet  rowled  up  an'  ondher  his  arm,  and  pre- 
sented it  to  the  king. 

"Well,  Jack,"  says  the  king,  smilin',  "ye  done 
me  again,  but  the  third  time,  ye  mind,  is  the 
charm.    To-morrow  night  I'll  sleep  with  all  my 


The  Apprentice  Thief         219 

clothes,  as  well  as  my  shoot  of  mail,  on  me,  and 
you're  to  steal  this  inside  shirt  (showing  it  to 
him)  that  has  my  name  written  on  the  inside 
of  the  breast  of  it,  ye  persave,  off  my  back,  and 
leave  another  shirt  on  me  in  its  place,  and  Til 
have  a  loaded  gun  in  every  hand  all  night,  and 
there'll  be  a  senthry  at  every  window  in  my 
house,  and  two  at  every  door,  and  my  bed- 
room will  be  filled  with  sodgers ;  and  if  ye  don't 
succeed,  ye  know  what'll  happen  ye.  Eh,  what 
do  you  think  of  that,  Jack?" 
I  *'Why,"  says  Jack,  says  he,  "sure  I'll  do  my 
best,  and  the  best,  ye  know,  can  do  no  more." 

Now  Jack's  father  was  jumpin'  out  of  his 
skin  with  delight  when  he  found  that  Jack  stole 
the  sheet,  but  when  Jack  come  home  this  night, 
an'  tould  his  father  that  he  had  to  steal  the  in- 
side shirt,  with  the  king's  name  on  the  inside 
of  the  breast,  off  the  king's  back,  and  leave  an- 
other in  its  place  unknownst  to  him,  while  he 
slept  with  all  his  clothes  as  well  as  a  shoot  of 
mail  on  him,  and  a  loaded  gun  in  every  hand, 
and  with  a  senthry  at  every  window,  and  two 
at  every  door,  and  the  room  full  of  sodgers,  faix 
Jack's  father's  heart  gave  way  again  entirely; 


220  In  Chimney  Corners 

and  he  said  that  Jack  was  as  good  as  lost  to 
him  now,  anyhow. 

Jack  said  nothing  but  went  to  bed  and  slept 
sounder  now  than  ever  he  did,  and  getting  up 
betimes  in  the  mornin'  he  went  to  a  tailyer  and 
got  him  to  make  a  shirt  of  the  same  description, 
and  of  the  very  same  cloth  as  the  king's  inside 
shirt ;  and  he  got  the  tailyer  to  prent  something 
in  the  inside  of  the  breast  of  it — ^but  what  it 
was  we'll  not  say  now.  In  the  middle  of  the 
night  he  rowled  up  the  shirt,  and  buttoning  it 
up  inside  his  coat,  he  stharted  for  the  castle. 
When  the  senthries  seen  him  comin',  they  ups 
with  their  guns  to  shoot  him,  when  he  shouted 
out  not  to  mind,  for  that  he  was  comin'  to  give 
himself  up,  seein'  that  it  was  no  use  in  him  en- 
dayvourin'  to  do  what  was  onpossible  to  be 
done.  So,  they  got  round  him,  and  takin'  him 
into  the  castle,  they  fetched  him  to  the  king's 
bedroom,  where  they  wakened  the  king,  and 
told  him  that  Jack  had  give  in  at  last  and 
couldn^t  do  it. 

"Why,  Jack,"  said  the  king,  laughin*  hearty, 
"I  knew  I  would  be  one  too  many  for  ye.    Or- 


The  Apprentice  Thief        221 

dher  up  the  hangman  at  once  till  we  get 
through  with  this  business." 

"Oh,  aisy,  aisy,  if  ye  plase/'  said  Jack,  "sure 
this  was  nothin'  but  a  joke  of  me.  I  have  the 
shirt  already  stolen  off  yer  back,  and  another  in 
its  place." 

The  king  swore  this  was  onpossible,  and  the 
sojers  till  a  man  swore  the  same,  but  the  king, 
knowin'  Jack  was  so  able,  thought  it  betther 
not  to  shout  till  he  was  out  of  the  wood;  so 
he  pulled  off  him  till  he  reached  the  shirt. 

"There  it  is  yet,  Jack,  ye  see,"  says  he. 

"Is  that  it?"  says  Jack.    "Is  yer  name  in  it?" 

"To  be  sure  it  is,"  says  the  king,  readin'  it. 

"Show  me,"  says  Jack ;  and  tumin'  round  to 
the  light  to  read  the  name,  purtindin',  he  slips 
it  undher  his  coat  in  the  winkin'  of  a  midge's 
eye,  and  whips  out  the  other  shirt.  "Ay,  sure 
enough,"  says  Jack,  handin'  back  his  own, 
"that's  it  all  right.  So  I  suppose  ye  may  as 
well  get  up  the  hangman  and  let  us  finish  off 
the  business  at  wanst. 

"Sartinly,  Jack,"  says  the  king,  gettin*  him- 
self into  the  shirt  and  clothes  again,  "sartinly; 
delays  is  dangerous." 


222  In  Chimney  Corners 

But,  lo  and  behould  you !  when  the  hangman 
was  got  and  everything  was  prepared,  the  king 
asked  Jack  if  he  had  anything  to  say  before  h'ed 
die. 

"Why,  yes,  yer  highness,"  says  Jack,  "I  have 
a  thriflin'  wee  word  to  say." 

"An'  what  is  it?"  says  the  king.  "Out  with 
it,  man,  and  don't  be  backward  about  it." 

"Why,"  says  Jack,  pulHn'  out  the  king's  shirt 
from  undher  his  coat,  "it's  only  this — there's 
yer  shirt  stolen  off  yer  back,  although  ye  slept 
in  yer  clothes  and  a  shoot  of  mail,  and  with  a 
senthry  at  ivery  window,  and  two  at  ivery  door, 
and  yer  bedroom  filled  with  sojers,  and  I  have 
left  another  shirt  on  yer  back." 

The  king  looked  at  the  shirt  and  read  his 
name  on  it,  and,  turnin'  nine  colours  at  wanst, 
he  peeled  off  him  again,  and  takin'  off  his  inside 
shirt  he  read  on  the  inside  of  the  breast  of  it : — 

**Sould  again,  ould  brick  ! 
This  is  my  third  thrick — 
The  shirt  taken  off  yer  back 
By 

Masther-Thief  Jack." 

The  king  was  thundher-struck,  and  no  won- 
dher!  He  ups  and  he  says  at  wanst,  just  as 
soon  as  he  got  his  senses  gathered : — 


The  Apprentice  Thief        223 

"Jack/*  says  he,  "you  must  lave  my  domin- 
ions, for  I'm  not  sure  but  ye  might  stale  the 
very  teeth  out  of  my  head,  if  ye  only  took  the 
notion.  I'm  sorry,  indeed,  Jack,  but  go  ye 
must.  At  the  same  time  I'll  threat  ye  daicent 
— ye'll  have  as  much  gold  with  ye  as  yer  pockets 
can  hould." 

'Thank  ye  for  nothin',"  says  Jack  back  to 
him,  "for  I  could  have  that  if  yer  highness  was 
to  put  it  undher  all  the  locks  in  the  kingdom. 
But  I  have  one  requist  to  ask  ye  afore  I  go." 

"Name  it,  Jack,"  says  the  king. 

"Will  ye  see  that  me  ould  father  nivir  wants 
for  anything  while  he  lives?'* 

"Troth,  I  will  that,  Jack,  for  I'll  take  him  up 
to  the  castle  to  live  along  with  myself ;  he'll  get 
aitin'  and  dhrinkin'  of  the  best;  he'll  not  be 
asked  to  do  a  hand's  turn  of  work,  and  he'll  be 
as  happy  as  the  day  is  long." 

Jack  thanked  the  king  hearty,  and  set  out  on 
his  thravels.  He  went  back  to  the  country  he 
was  'prenticed  in,  and  as  his  ould  masther  had 
just  died,  Jack  was  appointed  Masther-man- 
thief  of  that  whole  counthry,  and  lived  happy 
and  well  ivir  afther. 


Manis  the  Besom  Man 


**  It's  a  half-crown,  by  the  toss  o'  war! " 


MANIS  THE  BESOM  MAN 


Once  on  a  time  when  pigs  was  swine,  long, 
long  ago,  there  was  a  man  named  Manis  who 
supported  himself  and  his  ould  disabled  mother 
by  making  besoms  out  of  the  long  heather  on 
the  lonely  moor  where  they  lived.  One  day, 
when  Manis  was  driving  a  very  sorry  old  in- 
stitution of  a  horse — that  you  could  count  every 
bone  in  his  body  through  his  skin — to  the  town, 
with  a  load  of  besoms  for  sale,  he  begun  to 
ruminate  to  himself  on  the  bad  trade  this  same 
besom-making  was  becoming,  entirely,  that  he 
could  hardly  keep  body  and  sowl  sticking  to- 
gether himself,  let  alone  support  his  mother 
227 


228  In  Chimney  Corners 

and  an  old  horse,  that  would  soon  die  on  his 
hands  anyway ;  and  then  he'd  be  in  a  fix,  for  he 
couldn't  scrape  as  much  money  together  as 
would  buy  a  new  straddle,  let  alone  a  new  horse. 
And,  as  for  selling  this  one,  it's  what  he'd 
have  to  pay  a  man  to  take  him  off  his  hands, 
let  alone  get  money  for  him.  But  it's  a  bad 
disaise  that  can't  be  cured  somehow,  Manis  said 
to  himself — so  he  began  to  consider  how 
he  could  sell  his  rickle  of  a  pony  to  advan- 
tage. Manis  had  about  as  clever  a  head  as  ever 
was  set  on  ignorant  shoulders — and  right  well 
he  knew  this — and  he  was  not  long  finding  a 
way  out  of  the  pickle.  When  he  went  to  the 
town  and  disposed  of  his  besoms,  and  got  the 
money  for  them,  he  put  the  money  into  shilling 
pieces,  half-crown  pieces,  and  one  half-sov- 
ereign, and  inquiring  for  the  grandest  hotel,  he 
put  his  hgrse  into  the  stable,  and  stuck  the  gold 
half-sovereign  and  all  the  other  pieces  into  the 
holes  in  its  hide — for  the  poor  haste's  skin  had 
holes  enough  to  hide  away  a  fortune  in,  good- 
ness knows! — slipping  them  just  what  you'd 
know  in  under  the  skin,  and  then  he  went  into 
the  hotel,  and  ordered  the  best  of  everything, 


Manis  the  Besom  Man         229 

eating  and  drinking  for  himself,  and  as  for  the 
horse,  he  told  them  not  to  spare  the  corn  and 
bran  mashes  on  him,  for  he  was  going  to  put 
him  into  training  for  a  great  race.  Manis  got 
all  he  called  for,  and  the  horse,  too,  got  every- 
thing of  the  best,  and  that  all  fared  well  till  it 
came  to  the  paying  of  the  bill,  which  reached 
a  big  figure  entirely.  When  the  bill  was  put  be- 
fore him,  Manis  said  he  would  call  again  and 
pay  it;  that  he  had  no  ready  cash  about  him 
now,  and  all  that;  but  the  waiters  raised  the 
divil  of  a  ruction,  and  sent  for  the  owner  of  the 
hotel  himself,  who  happened  to  be  Mayor  over 
the  town;  and  they  pointed  out  Manis  to  him, 
and  told  him  the  whole  story,  and  the  Mayor 
said  that  if  Manis  didn't  take  and  pay  the 
money  on  that  instant  moment,  he  would  send 
for  the  soldiers  and  have  him  hung  by  coort- 
martial  at  once. 

'Well,  well,"  sez  Manis,  sez  he,  "but  this  is  a 
nice  how-do-ye-do,  that  a  gintleman  can't  be 
trusted  for  a  few  shillings,  only  this  way.  Sweet 
good  luck  to  you  and  your  house,"  sez  he  to  the 
Mayor.  "I  never  yet  in  all  my  travels  met  with 
such  ondaicent  people.  Though  I  have  a  shabby 


230  In  Chimney  Corners 

coat  on  me  atself,"  sez  Manis,  ''don't  judge  me 
by  that,  for  that's  my  notion,  and  it's  the  way 
I  choose  to  go.  And  look  ye  here  now,  Misther 
Mayor,"  sez  he,  '1  could  not  only  pay  for 
my  own  dinner,  but  I  could  invite  every  moth- 
er's sowl  in  this  town — good,  bad,  and  ondiffer- 
ent,  big,  wee,  and  middling — here,  and  give 
them  their  dinners  and  pay  for  them,  and  buy 
you  out  of  house  and  home  then,  and  make  a 
present  of  the  whole  consarn  to  your  waiter 
there  the  next  minute,  and  live  as  ondependent 
as  a  prence  still  after,"  sez  Manis.  ''But  if  you 
must  be  paid  for  your  hungry  bit  of  a  dinner 
that  wouldn't  break  a  man's  fast  on  a  Good  Fri- 
day, ye  must.  I  left  my  purse  behind  me  at 
home,  and  I  didn't  just  want  to  abuse  my  poor 
baste  now,  seeing  he's  afther  a  long  journey; 
but  to  stop  your  throat  I'll  do  anything,  so  here 
goes."  And  with  that  Manis  plants  his  hat  on 
his  head  and  away  out  to  the  stables,  with  the 
Mayor  and  all  the  waiters  after  him  to  see  what 
he  was  up  to  at  all,  at  all. 

Manis  led  out  the  pony  to  the  yard,  and  tell- 
ing the  crowd  to  stand  off  him,  he  got  the  pony 
by  the  head  with  one  hand,  and  with  a  stick  in 


Manis  the  Besom  Man        231 

the  other  he  struck  the  horse's  ribs  just  beside 
the  place  he  hid  the  half-sovereign,  and  the 
horse  flung  up  as  well  as  he  was  able — bekase 
for  six  years  afore  he  never  had  the  spirit  to 
fling  till  he  got  the  feed  of  corn  and  bran — 
and  out  jumps  the  goold  half-sovereign,  and 
rolls  just  right  to  the  Mayor's  feet.  The  Mayor 
looked  down  at  it  bewildered. 

"Will  ye  kindly,"  sez  Manis,  sez  he,  in  an 
offhand  sort  of  way  to  the  Mayor,  "will  yer 
Mayorship  kindly  pick  up  that  coin  and  tell  me 
how  much  it  is?" 

The  Mayor  picked  it  up,  and  he  looked  at 
it,  and  he  turned  it  over  and  looked  at 
the  other  side,  and  then  jingled  it  on  the 
ground,  and  next  bit  it  with  his  teeth. 

"Well,  by  all  that's  infarnal,"  sez  he,-  "but 
it's  a  good  shining  goold  half-sovereign,"  sez 
he,  "with  the  King's  head  on  it." 

"Humph!"  sez  Manis,  sez  he,  "is  that  all? 
That's  not  enough  then,  we  must  try  again." 

So  Manis  whacked  the  horse  again,  and 
again,  and  again ;  and  the  horse  flung  up  again, 
and  again,  and  again;  and  the  coins  come 
jumping  out,  rolling  among  the  waiters,  and 


232  In  Chimney  Corners 

them  picking  them  up  and  shouting  out  every 
time  how  much  they  were.  When  Manis  got 
enough  to  pay  the  bill, — 

"Now,"  sez  he,  "when  I  have  my  hand  on 
him,  I  may  as  well  take  the  price  of  a  box  of 
matches  and  a  bit  of  tobacco  out  of  him,"  and 
he  flogged  out  another  couple  of  half-crowns, 
the  Mayor  and  the  waiters  looking  on  with 
their  mouths  open  and  rubbing  their  eyes  every 
now  and  then  to  see  whether  it  was  asleep  or 
awake  they  were.  When  Manis  had  finished, 
and  had  all  the  pieces  flogged  out  of  him  ex- 
cept a  couple,  he  yoked  him  into  the  cart  as  if  he 
was  going  to  start. 

"I  say,  my  good  man,"  sez  the  Mayor,  when 
he  got  his  breath  with  him — "I  say,  my  good 
man,"  sez  he,  "would  you  sell  that  horse?" 

"Is  it  sell  him?"  sez  Manis,  sez  he.  "Not  by 
no  means." 

"I  would  be  content  to  give  you  a  good  penny 
for  him,"  sez  the  Mayor;  "just  as  a  cur 'osity 
to  show  my  friends,  you  know." 

"You'll  have  to  get  some  other  curiosity  for 
your  friends  this  time,  then,"  sez  Manis.  "This 
would  be  a  rare  cur'osity,  entirely." 


Manis  the  Besom  Man        233 

"I  wouldn't  refuse  you  fifty  pounds  down  in 
cold  cash  for  him,"  sez  the  Mayor. 

"Faix,  I  suppose  you  would  not,"  sez  Manis, 
tartly. 

"I  wouldn't  refuse  you  a  hundred  pounds 
down  for  him,  now  that  I  think  of  it,"  sez  the 
Mayor. 

"Think  again,"  sez  Manis. 

"Oh,  but  I  considher  that  a  big  penny,"  sez 
the  Mayor. 

"And  wouldn't  you  considher  five  hundred, 
bigger?"  sez  Manis. 

"Oh,  I  couldn't  think  of  that,  my  good  man," 
sez  the  Mayor. 

"Very  well  and  good,  then,"  replied  Manis. 
"When  every  one  sticks  to  his  own,  no  man's 
wronged.  Good  morning  and  good  luck,"  sez 
he,  pretending  to  go  and  to  drive  off. 

"Hold  on  ye,"  sez  the  Mayor,  running  for- 
ward and  catching  the  reins.  Is  it  very  ex- 
pensive, his  keep?  Have  you  to  feed  him  on 
anything  special  to  get  them  coins  out  of  him?" 

"Yes,  sartintly,"  sez  Manis,  "his  keep  is  a 
very  expensive  item  entirely,  and  if  you're  not 
purpared  to  give  him  his  fill  of  good  oat. 


234  I^  Chimney  Corners 

corn,  and  bran,  there's  no  use  in  you  throwing 
away  your  hard-earned  money  purchasing  him 
from  me.  I  like  to  be  honest  with  you,  so  good 
morning  again." 

''Hold  on  you!  Hold  on,  you!"  sez  the 
Mayor,  pulling  the  reins  with  all  his  might,  for 
Manis  was  making  wonderful  big  quivers  with 
the  reins  and  the  whip  as  if  he  wanted  to  get 
away  whither  or  no,  and  that  he  was  no  way 
consamed  to  make  sale. 

"Hold  on,  you!"  sez  the  Mayor.  "One  of 
you  run  in  there,"  sez  he  to  the  waiters,  "and 
fetch  me  out  five-hundred  pounds  you'll  get 
rolled  up  in  the  foot  of  an  old  stocking 
in  the  bottom  corner  of  my  trunk,  and  the  oth- 
ers of  you  take  this  horse  out  of  the  cart  and  put 
him  into  the  stable,"  sez  he. 

So  the  waiter  soon  come  running  back  with 
the  foot  of  an  old  stocking,  and  the  Lord  Mayor 
counted  five  hundred  goold  sovereigns  out  of  it 
down  into  Manis's  hand,  and  Manis  and  him 
parted,  Manis  going  whistling  home  with  a 
light  heart. 

The  Mayor  had  the  pony  locked  up  in  a  sta- 
ble by  itself,  up  to  the  eyes  in  corn  and  bran, 


Manis  the  Besom  Man         235 

and  he  double-locked  it,  putting  the  key  into  his 
own  pocket,  and  then  went  round  the  town  tell- 
ing all  his  gentlemen  friends  of  his  good  for- 
tune, and  inviting  them  all  to  come  at  twelve 
o'clock  the  next  day  till  they  would  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  him  flogging  a  hundhred 
pound  or  so  out  of  the  horse.  Sure  enough,  at 
twelve  o'clock  the  next  day,  all  his  gentlemen 
friends  were  gathered  in  the  hotel  yard,  and  the 
Lord  Mayor  come  out  and  opened  the  stable 
door,  and  ordered  one  of  his  men  in  to  lead  out 
the  horse.  He  was  provided  with  a  nice  little 
tough  cane  himself,  that  he  had  bought  ateigh- 
teenpence  in  a  little  shop  next  doore,  specially 
for  the  occasion,  and  he  ordered  his  man  to  lead 
the  horse  into  the  middle  of  the  yard,  and  then 
he  went  round  clearing  a  circle  about  the  horse, 
putting  his  gentlemen  friends  back  with  the 
cane,  as  he  said  the  little  coins  would  likely  be 
rolling  among  them,  and  would  maybe  get  lost. 
''Now,  John,"  says  he  to  the  man  who  was 
holding  the  horse,  ''keep  a  good  tight  grip  on 
the  reins,  and  don't  let  him  burst  away.  I'll  not 
keep  you  long,  for  I'll  only  take  a  few  hundhred 
5>ounds  or  so  out  of  him  the  day,  iu«^t  to  let  these 


136  In  Chimney  Corners 

gentlemen  friends  of  mine  see  the  thing.  Hold 
hard,  now,"  sez  he,  and  he  drew  the  cane  a 
sharp  slap  on  the  poor  haste's  ribs. 

Up  flung  the  horse,  and  out  jumped  a  coin, 
and  rolled  into  the  crowd. 

The  Lord  Mayor  crossed  his  arms,  and  axed 
some  of  the  crowd  to  lift  it  and  tell  him  what 
was  it. 

They  lifted  and  examined  it,  as  if  it  was  one 
of  the  seven  wonders  of  the  world,  and  they  bit 
it,  and  scratched  it,  and  jingled  it,  an  sez 
they,— 

*Tf  s  a  good,  bright  shilling,  with  the  king's 
head  on  it." 

"Humph!"  sez  the  Lord  Mayor,  a  wee  bit 
taken  back,  "is  that  all?  I  expected  a  bit  of 
goold,  but  the  goold's  to  come  yet.  Hold  hard 
again,  John!"  sez  he,  and  he  come  down  an- 
other sharp  rap  on  the  horse's  ribs.  Up  flung 
the  horse,  and  out  jumps  another  coin.  "Kindly 
tell  me,"  sez  he,  crossing  his  arms,  and  looking 
on  indifferently — "kindly  tell  me,"  sez  he,  "how 
much  is  that  ?" 

The  crowd  took  it  up  again,  and  scratched  it, 


Manis  the  Besom  Man        237 

and  rubbed  it,  and  jingled  it,  an  bit  it,  and  sez 
they,— 
"It's  a  half-crown,  by  the  toss  o*  war!" 
"Well,  middling,  middling,"  says  he,  "we're 
getting  towards  the  goold  now.  Hold  hard 
again,  John!  Look  out,  gentlemen,  for  I'm 
guessing  this  will  be  a  half-sovereign,  or  a  sov- 
ereign, and  it  might  get  lost."  And  with  that 
he  comes  down  another  rap  on  the  haste's  ribs, 
but  lo  and  behold  you,  though  the  horse  flung 
ever  so  high,  the  sorra  take  the  coin  or  coin 
come  out. 

The  Lord  Mayor  looked  round  him,  and  then 
looked  up  in  the  air  to  see  if  the  coin  went  up 
that  way,  and  forgot  to  come  down ;  but  seeing 
no  sign  of  it  there,  he  turned  to  John,  and  sez 
he, — 

"What  way  did  that  coin  go,  John  ?" 
"Faith,"  sez  John,  sez  he,  "you  put  me  a  puz- 
zle.   Ax  me  another." 

"There's  some  mistake,"  says  the  Lord 
Mayor,  squaring  himself  out,  and  folding  up 
his  sleeves.  "I'm  afeard  I  didn't  strike  hard 
enough  that  time;  but  it  will  not  be  my  fault 
this  time  or  I  will."    So  down  he  comes  such 


238  In  Chimney  Corners 

a  polthogue  on  the  poor  brute's  bones  as  made 
it's  inside  sound  like  a  drum,  and  up  higher 
than  ever  the  baste  flung  its  heels,  and  the 
Lord  Mayor  and  John,  and  all  the  crowd  stood 
back  to  watch  for  the  coin,  but  good  luck  to 
their  wit !  if  they  were  watching  from  that  time 
till  this  the  dickens  receive  the  coin  or  coin 
would  they  see. 

"Right  enough,"  sez  the  Lord  Mayor,  sez  he, 
"it's  as  plain  as  a  pike  staff  that  there  must  be 
some  mistake  here.  Don't  you  think  isn't  there 
some  mistake,  John?" 

"Faix,"  sez  John,  "I  would  be  very  strongly 
of  the  opinion  that  there  is." 

"John,"  sez  the  Lord  Mayor,  sez  he,  "I  think 
we're  not  holding  his  head  the  right  way.  It 
strikes  me  that  the  owner  of  him  held  his  head 
north  when  he  was  flogging  the  money  out  of 
him.  What  do  you  think  if  we  hold  his  head 
north?" 

"Anything  at  all  you  plaise,"  sez  John,  "Fm 
paid  to  obey  orders." 

"All  right  then,  John,  just  move  his  head 
round  that  way  a  little.  That's  it.  That  will 
do,"  sez  the  Lord  Mayor.     "Now  hold  hard, 


Manis  the  Besom  Man         239 

John,  and  keep  a  sharp  eye  out  for  the  coin/* 
sez  he,  spitting  on  the  stick  and  winding  it 
round  his  head,  and  fetching  it  down,  oh,  meha 
murdher !  that  you'd  think  it  wouldn't  leave  a 
bone  in  the  poor  haste's  body  it  wouldn't  knock 
into  stirabout.  And  then  up  flung  the  horse, 
and  the  Mayor  jumped  back,  and  they 
all  jumped  back,  and  then  the  Mayor 
held  out  his  hand  and  said,  ''Whisht! 
Whisht!"  an  set  up  his  ears  to  hear  where  the 
coin  would  fall;  but,  movrone,  ne'er  a  coin  or 
coin  was  to  be  heard.  The  first  thing  the  Mayor 
heard  was  a  bit  of  a  titter  of  a  laugh,  and  then 
another  and  another,  till  the  titter  went  round 
all  his  gintlemen  friends.  With  that  he  got 
black  in  the  face,  to  find  he  had  made  such  a 
fool  of  himself,  and  to  the  flogging  of  the  horse 
he  falls  again,  detarmined  to  have  it  out  of  him 
if  there  was  a  coin  at  all  in  him.  And 
he  flogged  him  high  up  and  low  down, 
and  all  around,  whacking  and  striking, 
and  puffing,  and  cursing,  and  the  baste 
flinging  and  leaping,  and  neighing,  and 
whinnying,  till  at  length  ye  a'most  wouldn't  see 
the  poor  animal  for  blood  and  foam.    And  his 


240  In  Chimney  Corners 

gintlemen  friends  round  about  had  to  interfare 
at  last,  and  drag  him  away  from  the  horse  by 
brute  force,  and  threaten  to  give  him  in  charge 
to  the  soldiers  if  he  didn't  stop  murdering  the 
creature,  and  the  horse  was  dragged  off  and 
the  Lord  Mayor  was  dragged  in,  and  the  whole 
town  laughed  for  nine  days  after  till  they 
laughed  the  Lord  Mayor  clean  out  of  his  office. 
And  as  for  Manis,  the  rascal,  he  give  up  the 
besom-making  trade,  as  well  he  might,  and  he 
lived  an  ondependent  private  jintleman,  himself 
and  his  mother,  for  the  rest  of  their  days,  on 
the  inthcrcst  of  his  money. 


Jack  and  the  King  Who  was  a 
Gentleman 


JACK  AND  THE  KING  WHO 

WAS  A  GENTLEMAN 


It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  the  Bum- 
madier  was  not  a  milHonaire;  for  in  that  case, 
at  the  Bocht  money  would  run  Hke  the  rain  at 
Lammas.  Of  course,  with  a  steady  and  assured 
income  of  two  pounds  five  shiUings  and  six- 
pence per  quarter,  he  was  rich  enough  to  be 
generous — but,  alas,  not  rich  enough  to  be 
lavish. 

There  was  no  other  employer  of  labour  at  the 
Bocht  to  whom  the  youngsters  would  give  their 
services  with  the  alacrity  they  ever  showed 
when  the  Bummadier  had  a  cart  of  fir  to  take 
in,  or  rushes  to  bear  home  from  the  Bottoms, 
to  thatch  his  cabin.  And,  awaiting  their  prom- 
ised pennies,  they,  in  course  of  time,  got  to 
know  Pay-day,  and  to  long  for  it  with  all  the 
greedy  eagerness  of  the  thirstiest  old  pensioner 
in  the  land. 

243 


244  ^^  Chimney  Corners 

But,  in  consideration  of  Pay-day  being  still 
far  in  the  future,  Corney  was  frequently  im- 
portuned by  his  mercenaries  to  acknowledge 
their  drafts,  and  pay  interest  thereon,  in  the 
shape  of  a  good  exciting  story  of  the  King's- 
and-Queen's  age.  Which  demands,  that  he 
might  stave  off  a  run  on  the  bank,  the  Bum- 
madier  was  fain  to  concede.  For  the  Widow's 
Pat,  these  tales  had  a  thrilling  interest,  and  on 
the  occasion  of  one,  seated  in  his  usual  siostog 
in  the  corner,  he  followed  it  with  such  breath- 
less excitement  as  held  not  even  the  youngsters 
themselves. 

Well,  childre :  wanst  upon  a  time,  when  pigs 
was  swine,  there  was  a  poor  widdy  woman 
lived  all  alone  with  her  wan  son  Jack  in  a  wee 
hut  of  a  house,  that  on  a  dark  night  ye  might 
aisily  walk  over  it  by  mistake,  not  knowin'  at 
all,  at  all,  it  was  there,  barrin'  ye'd  happen  to 
strike  yer  toe  again'  it.  An'  Jack  an'  his  mother 
lived  for  lee  an'  long,  as  happy  as  hard  times 
would  allow  them,  in  this  wee  hut  of  a  house, 
Jack  sthrivin'  to  'arn  a  little  support  for  them 
both  by  workin'  out,  an'  doin'  wee  turns  back 


Jack  and  the  King  245 

an'  forrid  to  the  neighbours.  But  there  was  one 
winter,  an'  times  come  to  look  black  enough  for 
them — nothin'  to  do,  an'  less  to  ate,  an'  clothe 
themselves  as  best  they  might;  an'  the  winther 
wore  on,  gettin'  harder  an'  harder,  till  at  length 
when  Jack  got  up  out  of  his  bed  on  a  mornin', 
an'  axed  his  mother  to  make  ready  the  drop  of 
stirabout  for  their  little  brakwus  as  usual, 
'*Musha,  Jack,  a  mhic/'  says  his  mother,  says 
she,  "the  male-chist — thanks  be  to  the  Lord  !— 
is  as  empty  as  Paddy  Ruadh's  donkey  that  used 
to  ate  his  brakwus  at  supper-time.  It  stood  out 
long  an'  well,  but  it's  empty  at  last,  Jack,  an' 
no  sign  of  how  we're  goin'  to  get  it  filled  again 
— only  we  trust  in  the  good  Lord  that  niver  yet 
disarted  the  widow  and  the  orphan — He'll  not 
see  us  wantin',  Jack." 

*'The  Lord  helps  them  that  help  themselves, 
mother,"  says  Jack  back  again  to  her. 

"Thrue  for  ye.  Jack,"  says  she,  *'but  I  don't 
see  how  we're  goin'  to  help  ourselves." 

"He's  a  mortial  dead  mule  out  an'  out  that 
hasn't  a  kick  in  him,"  says  Jack.  "An',  mother, 
with  the  help  of  Providence — not  comparin' 
the  Christian  to  the  brute  baste — I  have  a  kick 


246  In  Chimney  Corners 

in  me  yet;  if  you  thought  ye  could  only  manage 
to  sthrive  along  the  best  way  you  could  for  a 
week,  or  maybe  two  weeks,  till  I  get  back  again 
off  a  little  journey  I'd  like  to  undhertake." 

"An'  may  I  make  bould  to  ax,  Jack,"  says 
his  mother  to  him,  ''where  would  ye  be  afther 
makin'  the  little  journey  to?" 

"You  may  that,  then.  Mother,"  says  Jack. 
"It's  this :  You  know  the  King  of  Munsther  is 
a  great  jintleman  entirely.  It's  put  on  him,  he's 
so  jintlemanly,  that  he  was  niver  yet  known  to 
make  use  of  a  wrong  or  disrespectable  word. 
An'  he  prides  himself  on  it  so  much  that  he  has 
sent  word  over  all  the  known  airth  that  he'll 
give  his  beautiful  daughter — the  loveliest  pic- 
thur  in  all  Munsther,  an'  maybe  in  all  Irelan', 
if  we'd  say  it — an'  her  weight  in  goold,  to  any 
man  that  in  three  trials  will  make  him 
use  the  unrespectful  word,  an'  say,  'Ye're 
a  liar !'  But  every  man  that  tries  him,  an'  fails, 
loses  his  head.  All  sorts  and  descriptions  of 
people,  from  prences  an'  peers  down  to  bagmen 
an'  beggars,  have  come  from  all  parts  of  the 
known  world  to  thry  for  the  great  prize,  an'  all 
of  them  up  to  this  has  failed,  an'  by  consequence 


Jack  and  the  King  247 

lost  their  heads.  But,  mother  dear,"  says  Jack, 
"where's  the  use  in  a  head  to  a  man  if  he  can't 
get  mail  for  it  to  ate  ?  So  I'm  goin'  to  thry  me 
fortune,  only  axin'  your  blissin'  an'  God's 
blissin'  to  help  me  on  the  way." 

"Why,  Jack,  a  thaisge,"  says  his  mother,  "it's 
a  dangersome  task ;  but  as  you  remark,  where's 
the  good  of  the  head  to  ye  when  ye  can't  get 
mail  to  put  in  it?  So,  I  give  ye  my  blissin',  an' 
night,  noon,  an'  mornin'  I'll  be  prayin'  for  ye  to 
prosper." 

An'  Jack  set  out,  with  his  heart  as  light  as 
his  stomach,  an'  his  pocket  as  light  as  them  both 
together;  but  a  man  'ill  not  travel  far  in  ould 
Irelan'  (thanks  be  to  God!)  on  the  bare-footed 
stomach — as  we'll  call  it — or  it'll  be  his  own 
fault  if  he  does;  an'  Jack  didn't  want  for  plenty 
of  first-class  aitin'  an'  dhrinkin'  lashin's  an' 
laivin's,  and  pressin'  him  to  more.  An'  in  this 
way  he  thravelled  away  afore  him  for  five  long 
days  till  he  come  to  the  King  of  Munsther's 
castle.  And  when  he  was  corned  there  he  rat- 
tled on  the  gate,  an'  out  come  the  king. 

"Well,  me  man,"  says  the  king,  "what  might 
be  your  business  here  ?" 


248  In  Chimney  Corners 

"Fm  come  here,  your  Kingship,"  says  Jack, 
mighty  poHte,  an'  puUin'  his  forelock,  be  raison 
his  poor  ould  mother  had  always  insthructed 
him  in  the  heighth  of  good  breedin' — 'I'm 
come  here,  your  R'yal  Highness,"  says  Jack, 
"to  thry  for  yer  daughter." 

''Hum!"  says  the  king.  ''Me  good  young 
man,"  says  he,  "don't  ye  think  it  a  poor  thing  to 
lose  yer  head?" 

"If  I  lose  it,"  says  Jack,  "sure  one  consola- 
tion 'ill  be  that  I'll  lose  it  in  a  glorious  cause." 

An*  who  do  ye  think  would  be  listenin'  to 
this  same  deludherin'  speech  of  Jack's,  from 
over  the  wall,  but  the  king's  beautiful  daughter 
herself.  She  took  an  eyeful  out  of  Jack,  an' 
right  well  plaised  she  was  with  his  appearance, 
for, — 

"Father,"  says  she  at  once,  "hasn't  the  boy 
as  good  a  right  to  get  a  chance  as  another? 
What's  his  head  to  you  ?  Let  the  boy  in,"  says 
she. 

An'  sure  enough,  without  another  word,  the 
King  took  Jack  within  the  gates,  an'  handin' 
him  over  to  the  sarvints,  tould  him  to  be  well 
looked  afther  an'  cared  for  till  mornin'. 


Jack  and  the  King  249 

Next  mornin'  the  King  took  Jack  with  him 
an'  fetched  him  out  into  the  yard.  "Now  then, 
Jack,"  says  he,  "we're  goin'  to  begin.  "We'll 
drop  into  the  stables  here,  an'  I'll  give  you  your 
first  chance." 

So  he  took  Jack  into  the  stables  an'  showed 
him  some  wondherful  big  horses,  the  likes  of 
which  poor  Jack  never  saw  afore,  an'  everyone 
of  which  was  the  heighth  of  the  side  wall  of  the 
castle  an'  could  step  over  the  castle  walls,  whicH 
were  twenty-five  feet  high,  without  strainin* 
themselves. 

"Them's  purty  big  horses,  Jack,"  says  the 
King.  "I  don't  suppose  ever  ye  saw  as  big  or 
as  wondherful  as  them  in  yer  life." 

"Oh,  they're  purty  big  indeed,"  says  Jack, 
takin'  it  as  cool  as  if  there  was  no  thin'  what- 
somever  astonishin'  to  him  about  them. 
"They're  purty  big  indeed,"  says  Jack,  ''for  this 
counthry.  But  at  home  with  us  in  Donegal 
we'd  only  count  them  little  nags,  shootable  for 
the  young  ladies  to  dhrive  in  pony-carriages." 

"What !"  says  the  King,  "do  ye  mane  to  tell 
me  ye  have  seen  bigger  in  Donegal?" 

"Bigger !"  says  Jack.    "Phew !    Blood  alive, 


^5o  In  Chimney  Corners 

yer  Kingship,  I  seen  horses  in  my  father's  sta- 
ble that  could  step  over  your  horses  without 
thrippin'.  My  father  owned  one  big  horse — ^the 
greatest,  I  believe,  in  the  world  again.'* 

"What  was  he  like?"  says  the  King. 

"Well,  yer  Highness,"  says  Jack,  "it's  quite 
beyond  me  to  tell  ye  what  he  was  like.  But  I 
know  when  we  wanted  to  mount  it  could  only 
be  done  by  means  of  a  step-laddher,  with  nine 
hundred  and  ninety  steps  to  it,  every  step  a  mile 
high,  an'  you  had  to  jump  seven  mile  off  the 
topmost  step  to  get  on  his  back.  He  ate  nine  ton 
of  turnips,  nine  ton  of  oats,  an'  nine  ton  of  hay, 
in  the  day  an' it  took  ninety-nine  men  in  the  day- 
time,  an'  ninety-nine  more  in  the  night-time, 
carrying  his  feeds  to  him ;  an'  when  he  wanted 
a  drink,  the  ninety-nine  men  had  to  lead  him  to 
a  lough  that  was  nine  mile  long,  nine  mile 
broad,  an'  nine  mile  deep,  an'  he  used  to  drink 
it  dry  every  time,"  says  Jack,  an'  then  he  looked 
at  the  King,  expectin'  he'd  surely  have  to  make 
a  liar  of  him  for  that. 

But  the  King  only  smiled  at  Jack,  an'  says 
he,  "Jack,  that  was  a  wonderful  horse  entirely, 
an'  no  mistake." 


Jack  and  the  King  251 

Then  he  took  Jack  with  him  out  into  the  gar- 
den for  his  second  trial,  an'  showed  him  a  bee- 
skep,  the  size  of  the  biggest  rick  of  hay  ever 
Jack  had  seen;  an'  every  bee  in  the  skep  was 
the  size  of  a  thrush,  an'  the  queeny  bee  as  big 
as  a  jackdaw. 

"Jack,"  says  the  King,  says  he,  "isn't  them 
wondherful  bees  ?  I'll  warrant  ye,  ye  never  saw 
anything  like  them?" 

"Oh,  they're  middlin' — middlin'  fairish," 
says  Jack — 'Jor  this  counthry.  But  they're 
nothin'  at  all  to  the  bees  we  have  in  Donegal. 
If  one  of  our  bees  was  flying  across  the  fields," 
says  Jack,  "and  one  of  your  bees  happened  to 
come  in  its  way,  an'  fall  into  our  bee's  eye,  our 
bee  would  fly  to  the  skep,  an'  ax  another  bee  to 
take  the  mote  out  of  his  eye." 

"Do  you  tell  me  so.  Jack?"  says  the  King. 
"You  must  have  great  monsthers  of  bees." 

"Monsthers,"  says  Jack.  "Ah,  yer  High- 
ness, monsthers  is  no  name  for  some  of  them. 
I  remimber,"  says  Jack,  says  he,  "a  mighty 
great  breed  of  bees  me  father  ow^ned.  They 
were  that  big  that  when  my  father's  new  castle 
was  a-buildin'  (in  the  steddin'  of  the  old  one 


252  In  Chimney  Corners 

which  he  consaived  to  be  too  small  for  a  man  of 
his  mains),  and  when  the  workmen  closed  in 
the  roof,  it  was  found  there  was  a  bee  inside, 
an'  the  hall  door  not  bein'  wide  enough, 
they  had  to  toss  the  side  wall  to  let 
it  out.  Then  the  queeny  bee — ah!  she 
was  a  wondherful  baste  entirely!"  says 
Jack.  "Whenever  she  went  out  to  take  the 
air  she  used  to  overturn  all  the  ditches  and 
hedges  in  the  country;  the  wind  of  her  wings 
tossed  houses  and  castles ;  she  used  to  swallow 
whole  flower  gardens;  an'  one  day  she  flew 
against  a  ridge  of  mountains  nineteen  thousand 
feet  high  and  knocked  a  piece  out  from  top  to 
bottom,  an'  it's  called  Barnesmore  Gap  to  this 
day.  This  queeny  bee  was  a  great  trouble  an' 
annoyance  to  my  father,  seein'  all  the  harm  she 
done  the  naybours  round  about;  and  once  she 
took  it  in  her  head  to  fly  over  to  England,  an' 
she  created  such  mischief  an'  disolation  there 
that  the  King  of  Englan'  wrote  over  to  my 
father  if  he  didn't  come  immaidiately  an'  take 
home  his  queeny  bee  that  was  wrackin'  an' 
ruinin'  all  afore  her  he'd  come  over  himself  at 
the  head  of  all  his  army  and  wipe  my  father  off 


Jack  and  the  King  253 

the  face  of  the  airth.  So  my  father  ordhered  me 
to  mount  our  wondherful  big  horse  that  I  tould 
ye  about,  an'  that  could  go  nineteen  mile  at 
every  step,  an'  go  over  to  Englan'  an'  bring 
home  our  queeny  bee.  An'  I  mounted  the  horse 
an'  started,  an'  when  I  come  as  far  as  the  sea 
I  had  to  cross  to  get  over  to  Englan',  I  put  the 
horse's  two  fore  feet  into  my  hat,  an'  in  that 
way  he  thrashed  the  sea  dry  all  the  way  across 
an'  landed  me  safely.  When  I  come  to  the  King 
of  Englan'  he  had  to  supply  me  with  nine  hun- 
dred and  ninety-nine  thousand  men  an'  ninety- 
nine  thousand  mile  of  chains  an'  ropes  to  catch 
the  queeny  bee  an'  bind  her.  It  took  us  nine 
years  to  catch  her,  nine  more  to  tie  her,  an'  nine 
years  and  nine  millions  of  men  to  drag  her 
home,  an'  the  King  of  Englan'  was  a  beggar 
afther  from  that  day  till  the  day  of  his  death. 
Now  what  do  ye  think  of  that  bee  ?"  says  Jack, 
thinkin'  he  had  the  King  this  time  sure  enough. 

But  the  King  was  a  cuter  one  than  Jack  took 
him  for,  an'  he  only  smiled  again,  an'  says  he, — 

*'Well,  Jack,  that  was  a  wondherful  great 
queeny  bee  entirely." 

Next,  for  poor  Jack's  third  an'  last  chance^ 


254  In  Chimney  Corners 

the  King  took  him  to  show  him  a  wondherful 
field  of  beans  he  had,  with  every  bean-stalk 
fifteen  feet  high  an'  every  bean  the  size  of  a 
goose's  egg. 

"Well,  Jack,"  says  the  King,  says  he,  "I'll 
engage  ye  never  saw  more  wondherful  bean- 
stalks than  them?" 

''Is  it  them?"  says  Jack.  "Arrah,  man,  yer 
Kingship,"  says  he,  "they  may  be  very  good — 
for  this  counthry;  but  sure  we'd  throw  them  out 
of  the  ground  for  useless  afther-shoots  in 
Donegal.  I  mind  one  bean-stalk  in  partickler, 
that  my  father  had  for  a  show  an'  a  cur'osity, 
that  he  used  to  show  as  a  great  wondher  en- 
tirely to  sthrangers.  It  stood  on  ninety-nine 
acres  of  ground,  it  was  nine  hundred  mile 
high,  an'  every  leaf  covered  nine  acres.  It  fed 
nine  thousand  horses,  nine  thousand  mules,  an' 
nine  thousand  jackasses  for  nineteen  years. 
He  used  to  send  nine  thousand  harvestmen  up 
the  stalk  in  spring  to  cut  and  gather  off  the  soft 
branches  at  the  top.  They  used  to  cut  these  off 
when  they'd  reach  up  as  far  as  them  (which 
was  always  in  the  harvest  time),  an'  throw 
them  down,  an*  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine 


Jack  and  the  King  255 

horses  an'  carts  were  kept  busy  for  nine  months 
carting  the  stuff  away.  Then  the  harvestmen 
always  reached  down  to  the  foot  of  the  stalk 
at  Christmas  again." 

"Faix,  Jack,"  says  the  King,  "it  was  a 
wondherful  bean-stalk,  that,  entirely." 

"You  might  say  that,"  says  Jack,  trying  to 
make  the  most  of  it,  for  he  was  now  on  his  last 
leg.  "You  might  say  that,"  says  he.  "Why, 
I  mind  one  year  I  went  up  the  stalk  with  the 
harvestmen,  an'  when  I  was  nine  thousand 
mile  up,  doesn't  I  miss  my  foot,  and  down  I 
come.  I  fell  feet  foremost,  and  sunk  up  to  my 
chin  in  a  whinstone  rock  that  was  at  the  foot. 
There  I  was  in  a  quandhary — but  I  was  not 
long  ruminatin'  till  I  hauled  out  my  knife,  an' 
cut  off  my  head,  an'  sent  it  home  to  look  for 
help.  I  watched  after  it,  as  it  went  away,  an'  lo 
an'  behould  ye,  afore  it  had  gone  half  a  mile  I 
saw  a  fox  set  on  it,  and  begin  to  worry  it.  'By 
this  an'  by  that,'  says  I  to  meself,  'but  this  is 
too  bad !' — an'  I  jumped  out  an'  away  as  hard 
as  I  could  run,  to  the  assistance  of  my  head. 
An'  when  I  come  up,  I  lifted  my  foot,  an'  give 
the  fox  three  kicks,  an'  knocked  three  kings  out 


256  In  Chimney  Corners 

of  him — every  one  of  them  a  nicer  an'  a  better 
jintleman  than  you." 

''Ye're  a  liar,  an'  a  rascally  liar,"  says  the 
King. 

*'More  power  to  ye !"  says  Jack,  givin'  thre« 
buck  leaps  clean  into  the  air,  "an'  it's  proud  I 
am  to  get  you  to  confess  it ;  for  I  have  won  yer 
daughter." 

Right  enough  the  King  had  to  give  up  to 
Jack  the  daughter — an'  be  the  same  token,  from 
the  first  time  she  clapped  her  two  eyes  on  Jack 
she  wasn't  the  girl  to  gainsay  him — an'  her 
weight  in  goold.  An'  they  were  both  of  them 
marrid,  an'  had  such  a  weddin'  as  surpassed  all 
the  weddin's  ever  was  heerd  tell  of  afore  or 
since  in  that  country  or  in  this.  An'  Jack  lost 
no  time  in  sendin'  for  his  poor  ould  mother,  an' 
neither  herself  nor  Jack  ever  after  knew  what  it 
was  to  be  in  want.  An'  may  you  an'  I  never 
know  that  same  naither. 


The  Giant  of  the  Band  Beg- 
gars' Hall 


THE  GIANT  OF  THE  BAND 
BEGGARS'  HALL 


Once  upon  a  time  when  there  were  plenty  of 
Kings  and  Queens  in  Ireland — it's  many  of 
them  often  we  heard  of,  but  few  of  them  ever 
we  seen,  except  in  dhrawin's  and  picthurs — 
there  was  a  King  and  a  Queen,  and 
they  had  one  son  called  Jack.  Now,  this  Jack, 
when  he  grew  up,  was  a  fine,  strong,  strapping, 
able  fellow,  and  he  was  very  fond  of  fishing. 
There  was  one  river  in  particular,  alive  with 
trout  and  fishes  of  all  descriptions,  that  Jack 
would  never  be  tired  fishing  in,  but  at  length 
the  trouts  and  other  fishes  in  this  river  begun  to 
get  so  old-fashioned  for  him  that  when  they'd 
find  him  fishing  on  one  side  of  the  river  they 
would  all  swim  to  the  other  side;  and  then 
when  my  poor  Jack  would  take  a  boat  and  cross 
over  to  the  other  side  after  them,  back  they'd 
all  swim,  and  be  at  the  opposite  side  again  by 
259 


26o  In  Chimney  Corners 

the  time  he'd  have  got  to  the  far  bank,  and 
they'd  then  commence  wagging  their  tails,  the 
creatures,  out  of  the  water  at  him  tauntingly. 
Well,  it  wasn't  in  human  nature  to  stand  that 
sort  of  thing ;  no  more  was  it  in  Jack,  for  Jack, 
of  course,  was  only  human;  and  then  Jack 
would  come  home  in  the  evening  in  the  very 
devil  of  a  temper,  and  maybe  commence  kick- 
ing the  cat  out  of  spite,  bekase  the  trouts 
wagged  their  tails  at  him.  So  this,  of  course, 
more  or  less  vexed  the  King  and  the  Queen, 
and  they  put  their  heads  together  and  had  long 
confabs,  consulting  what  they  could  do  to  mol- 
lify poor  Jack ;  but  the  short  and  the  long  of  it 
was,  they  agreed,  let  it  cost  what  it  might,  that 
a  bridge  must  be  built  over  the  river  for  Jack, 
so  that  he  would  be  across  the  river  and  back 
before  the  trouts  could  have  time  to  get  up  their 
tails  and  wag  them.  Well,  the  very  next  day 
after  this  conclusion  was  come  to,  all  the  ma- 
sons in  the  country  were  got  together  and  the 
bridge  built.  Early  the  next  morning  Jack  was 
up  and  out,  and  swearing  that  there  would  be 
no  more  tails  wagged  at  him  or  he'd  know  the 
reason  why.    But,  lo,  and  behold  you !  when  he 


Giant  of  Band  Beggars'  Hall    261 

come  to  the  place  where  the  bridge  was  put  up 
the  day  afore,  there  wasn't  two  stones  of  it 
a-top  of  other;  it  was  tumbled  to  the  ground 
and  scattered  aist  and  waist,  and  there  didn't 
seem  to  be  a  trout  in  the  river  but  w^as 
gathered  to  the  place,  and  as  soon  as  Jack  put  in 
an  appearance  ye  would  think  they  were  wag- 
ging their  tails  for  a  wager.  Jack  turned  and 
went  home,  and  he  met  the  cat  on  the  hall-door 
steps,  and  he  hit  her  a  kick  that  knocked  her 
clean  through  the  bottom  of  a  new  oaken  milk- 
tub  his  mother  had  out  on  the  steps  airing. 

''Well,  Jack,"  sez  the  King,  "surely  the  trouts 
aren't  wagging  their  tails  at  you  this  morning, 
now  that  we  have  built  ye  that  beautiful  new 
bridge,  that  there  isn't  the  like  of  it  in  the  coun- 
try again?" 

''Aren't  they  though  ?"  sez  Jack,  sez  he.  "Its 
a  nice  show,  your  bridge  is,  this  morning,  if 
ye'd  be  so  kind  as  to  go  out  and  look  at  it,  and 
see  how  there  isn't  the  second  stone  of  it  to- 
gether, and  it's  the  trouts  that  know  it — ^the 
sweet  sorra,"  sez  he,  "seize  the  little  sowls  of 
the  rascals;  I  never  saw  them  going  through 
?uch  tantrums;  it's  what  one  old  boyo  of  a 


262  In  Chimney  Corners 

trout  that  I  have  had  my  eye  on  for  the  last 
month  curled  his  tail  actually  round  to  his 
nose,"  sez  he,  "and  winked  his  eye  out  at  me," 
sez  he. 

"Ye  don't  tell  me  so,  Jack?"  sez  the  King. 
"Well,  well,  this  is  a  purty  how  d'ye  do.  Well, 
Jack,"  sez  he,  "I  suppose  there's  no  use  crying 
over  spilt  masonry,  no  more  nor  spilt  milk,  and 
all  we  can  do  is  call  the  masons  together  again, 
and  build  it  up." 

So,  called  together  they  were,  and  the  bridge 
was  up  again  afore  night.  And  my  brave  Jack 
was  up  with  the  lark  in  the  morning,  and  down 
to  the  river  with  his  rod,  but  oh,  sorra  seize 
the  bridge  or  bridge  was  there!  It  was  scat- 
tered to  the  four  winds;  and  the  trouts,  the 
scoundhrils,  they  were  ten  times  more  provok- 
ing then  ever,  actually  standing  on  their 
heads  with  delight.  There  was  no  hold- 
ing of  Jack  this  morning.  He  came 
back  from  the  river  in  the  very  mis- 
chief of  a  temper,  and  not  meeting  with 
the  cat  this  time — for  she  found  him  coming 
back — he  lifted  the  milk-tub  that  his  mother 
had  got  a  new  bottom  in  since,  and  knocked  it 


Giant  of  Band  Beggars'  Hall    263 

clean  through  the  hall-door  and  the  partition 
beyond,  into  the  parlour  where  the  King  and 
the  Queen  were  sitting  at  breakfast,  scattering 
the  table  and  the  fine  spread  of  pancakes  and  tea 
all  over  the  room. 

"Oh,  Jack,  Jack,''sez  the  King,  sez  he,  com- 
ing rushing  out — "Jack,  Jack,"  sez  he;  "calm 
yourself,  calm  yourself.  You  have  frightened 
your  poor  mother  out  of  a  year's  growth,  and 
spoiled  her  nice  pancakes  on  her." 

"Oh,  pancakes  be  rammed !"  sez  Jack. 

"Jack,  Jack,"  sez  the  King,  sez  he;  "what — 
what's  the  matter  this  morning?  Surely  that 
old  trout  hasn't  been  putting  his  tail  to  his  nose 
this  morning  again?  If  he  has,"  sez  he,  "trust 
me  but  I'll  soon  have  him  taught  a  trick  worth 
two  of  that.  He  must  be  let  know  who's  mas- 
ter and  who's  man  here,  and  that  he  can't  treat 
the  King's  son  with  disrespect." 

"Oh,"  sez  Jack,  sez  he,  "I  wish  you'd  just  go 
down  and  look  at  thon  bridge  of  yours  this 
morning  again,  maybe  ye'd  find  reason  to  un- 
derstand then,  that  not  the  King's  son,  but  the 
King  himself  is  treated  with  disrespect  and  con- 
tempt." 


264  In  Chimney  Corners 

"Jack,"  sez  the  King,  taken  aback,  "surely. 
Jack,''  sez  he,  "ye  don't  mean  to  insinuate  that 
the  bridge  is  down  again  ?" 

"Don't  I  though?"  sez  Jack,  with  a  sneer. 

"Well,"  sez  the  King,  shaking  his  head,  and 
looking  at  the  ground — "well,"  sez  he,  "that 
flogs  the  divil." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  sez  Jack.  "You  put 
up  the  bridge  once  more,  and  leave  the  rest  of  it 
to  me;  if  it  comes  down  again  I'll  be  able  to 
give  an  account  of  myself,  and  I'll  make  some 
devil  dance  to  a  tune  he  didn't  call  for." 

"The  third  time's  the  charm,"  sez  the  King; 
"and  the  third  time  it  will  go  up,  Jack.  Then 
I'll  leave  the  rest  of  it  to  you." 

So,  up  it  went  the  third  time,  and  that  night 
Jack  determined  to  sit  up  and  watch  the  bridge. 
All  went  well  till  about  close  on  midnight, 
when,  Jack  being  nodding  asleep  on  the  bridge, 
he  found  it  shaking.  Up  he  jumps,  and  down 
he  runs  under  the  bridge  to  see  what  was 
wrong  with  it,  or  who  was  shaking  it,  and 
there,  och,  och !  he  beheld  the  greatest  giant  he 
ever  saw  in  his  life  afore. 


Giant  of  Band  Beggars*  Hall   265 

"Who  are  you?'*  sez  the  Giant,  ready  to  de- 
Vore  Jack. 

"I  am  the  King's  son,  Jack,"  sez  Jack,  sez  fie. 

"Well,"  sez  the  Giant,  "all  rights  to  this 
river  belong  to  me,  and  the  King  should  not 
have  built  a  bridge  over  it.  By  right,"  sez  he, 
"I  should  take  your  life  now ;  but  I  see,"  sez  he, 
"you're  a  smart,  clean,  active-looking  boy,  and 
would  be  sarviceable  to  me ;  and  as  I  never  yet 
took  unfair  advantage  of  an  enemy,  it's  not 
worth  my  while  commencing  on  you," 
sez  the  Giant,  sez  he,  "so  I'll  give  you 
a  chance  for  your  life,"  sez  he.  Here's 
a  pack  of  cards,  now,"  sez  he,  produc- 
ing a  pack,  "and  I'll  play  you  a  fair  game.  If 
you  win,  you'll  get  your  life,  and  I'll  let  the 
bridge  remain,  but  if  I  win  I'll  either  take  your 
life  on  the  spot  or  put  a  condition  on  you.  Do 
you  agree  to  that?" 

"Done,"  sez  Jack,  for  he  thought  to  himself 
it  would  be  all  the  one  anyhow,  whether  he 
agreed  to  it  or  not. 

"What  game  will  it  be?"  sez  the  Giant. 

"Short,  and  be  done  with  it;  we'll  malcc  it 
twenty-five,"  sez  Jack. 


266  In  Chimney  Corners 

''All  right,"  sez  the  Giant,  ''cut  for  deal." 

Jack  cut  and  won  the  deal.  He  shuffled  and 
dealt  them,  turned  a  five  and  won  three  tricks. 

"That's  sharp  for  me.  Jack,"  says  the  Giant, 
as  he  shuffled. 

Jack  got  a  slashing  hand  again.  Spades  was 
trumps,  and  Jack  led  with  the  ace,  but  the  big 
fellow  covered  with  the  ace  of  hearts,  raised 
again  with  the  fingers  of  trumps,  and  followed 
up  with  the  knave,  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  all  the 
time. 

Jack  threw  down  his  cards. 

"Ha,  ha !  Jack,"  says  the  Giant,  "too  able  for 
ye?  Eh?  No  odds  though,"  sez  he;  "you're 
not  a  bad  hand  at  the  flats,  and  have  a  deal  of 
spunk  in  you,  so  I'll  give  ye  a  chance  for  your 
life  yet." 

"What's  that?"  sez  Jack. 

"It's  this,"  says  the  Giant.  "Within  a  year 
and  a  day  from  this  you're  to  find  out  my  cas- 
tle, where  I  live  when  I'm  at  home:  but  if 
you're  not  able  to  find  it,  then  I'll  have  your 
life,  toss  this  bridge,  and  leave  the  highest  stone 
in  your  father's  castle  the  lowest." 

"And  who  are  you  ?"  sez  Jack. 


Giant  of  Band  Beggars'  Hall   267 
Sez  the  Giant, — 

"  I'm  the  Giant  of  Band-beggars*  Hall, 
The  greatest  Giant  over  them  all." 

"I  have  never  heard  of  your  castle,"  sez  Jack. 

"Nor  I  hope  never  will,"  sez  the  Giant. 

"Well,  that's  to  be  seen,"  says  Jack. 

So  the  Giant  and  he  parted,  and  Jack  went 
home — for  it  was  now  morning — and  told  the 
King  and  Queen  all  that  had  happened.  They 
were  greatly  vexed  entirely,  and  cursed  it  for  a 
misfortunate  bridge,  and  tried  to  persuade 
Jack  to  remain  at  home  and  not  go  away  on 
such  a  wild-goose  chase,  to  the  Lord  knows 
where,  looking  for 

"The  Giant  of  the  Band-beggars'  Hall, 
The  greatest  Giant  over  them  all." 

But  Jack  wasn't  to  be  persuaded,  and  whether 
or  why,  he  would  go,  and  never  rest  till  he 
would  find  him  out,  or  else  lose  his  life.  So  he 
spit  on  his  stick,  and,  taking  his  father's  and 
mother's  blessing,  started  off  that  very  day. 
And  Jack  travelled  afore  him  for  months,  with- 
out ever  once  stopping,  or  eating  a  bite,  or 
sleeping  a  wink;  and  at  nightfall  one  day,  he 
came  to  a  great  castle  on  a  lonely  moor  in  the 


268  In  Chimney  Corners 

Easthern  World,  and  he  went  in  and  saw  a 
Giant  sitting  by  the  fire.  When  Jack  came  in, 
the  Giant  got  up,  and  sez  he, — 

''You're  very  welcome,  Jack,  the  King  of 
Ireland's  son,  for  I  haven't  seen  the  face  of  a 
Christian  for  the  last  three  hundred  years." 

Jack  wondered  how  he  knew  his  name,  but 
he  didn't  say  anything.  The  Giant  then  put 
Jack  sitting  by  a  roaring  fire,  and  taking  a 
knife  he  cut  down  the  quarter  of  a  rat  that  was 
hung  in  the  smoke  of  the  chimney  and  roasted  it 
on  the  coals,  and  himself  and  Jack  made  a  hearty 
supper  of  it,  and  then  each  of  them  slept  on  a 
harrow  with  a  goatskin  under  them  and  another 
over  them,  and  Jack  slept  hearty  and  well,  for 
he  was  very  tired  entirely.  Next  morning  he 
rose  as  fresh  as  a  butterfly,  and  after  breakfast- 
ing on  another  quarter  of  the  rat,  sez  the  Giant, 
sez  he, — 

"I  didn't  ask  you,  Jack — where  were  you 
going?" 

'*No  more  you  might,"  sez  Jack;  "I  might 
tell  you  where  Fm  coming  from,  but  where  Fm 
going  is  more  than  I  knows." 

So  Jack  starts  and  he  tells  him  the  whole  story 


Giant  of  Band  Beggars'  Hall    269 

about  him  and  the  Giant  of  the  Band-beggars* 
Hall.  And  then  he  asked  him  if  he  could  give 
him  any  tidings  of  where  he  lived  ? 

"Well,  no,"  sez  the  Giant,  "I  heard  of  him 
only,  and  that  was  all.  But  I'll  tell  you  what 
I'll  do,"  sez  he.  "I  have  command  of  a  third 
of  the  birds  of  the  air,  and  it's  likely  some  of 
them  may  know  something  about  him,  and  if 
they  do  I'll  soon  find  it  out  for  you,"  sez  he. 

So  with  that  he  blew  a  whistle,  and  im- 
mediately from  all  corners  of  the  sky  the  birds 
begun  for  to  gather,  and  very  soon  they  were 
all  round  the  castle,  making  the  sky  dark.  Then 
the  Giant  put  it  to  them  did  they  know  anything 
of— 

"  The  Giant  of  the  Band-beggars'  Hall, 
The  greatest  Giant  over  them  all," 

or  where  he  lived. 

But  no,  they  said  they  heard  tell  of  him  only, 
but  none  of  them  ever  reached  where  he  lived. 

"Well,"  sez  the  Giant,  sez  he  to  Jack,  "it's 
bad  enough.  But  I'll  tell  you  what,"  sez 
he.  "I'll  give  you  a  pair  of  nine-mile  boots, 
and  with  them  you'll  reach  an  older  brother  of 
mine  who  lives  a  long  ways  off  entirely,  and  he 


270  In  Chimney  Corners 

has  command  over  half  the  birds  of  the  air, 
and  maybe  he  could  do  something  for  you." 

Jack  thanked  him,  and  putting  on  the  bootB 
he  started  away  and  travelled  on,  and  on,  and 
on,  nine  mile  at  every  step,  till  late  at  night 
he  reached  the  Giant's  older  brother's  castle 
away  on  a  very  lonely  moor,  and  going  in  he 
saw  the  Giant  sitting  by  the  fire.  The  Giant 
got  up  and  he  says, — 

"You're  welcome  Jack,  the  King  of  Ireland's 
son,  for  I  haven't  seen  the  face  of  a  Christian 
for  six  hundred  years.  You  stopped  at  my 
brother's  house  last  night,"  sez  he. 

"I  did,"  sez  Jack,  all  the  time  wondering 
how  he  knew  him,  or  where  he  stopped  last 
night,  but  he  said  nothing. 

Then  the  Giant  put  Jack  beside  the  big  fire, 
and  cutting  down  two  quarters  of  a  rat  that  was 
hung  in  the  smoke  of  the  chimney,  he  roasted 
them,  and  Jack  and  he  ate  a  quarter  a  piece,  and 
then  they  went  to  bed,  everyone  of  them  on  a 
harrow,  with  a  goatskin  under  them  and 
another  over  them;  and  Jack  slept  well  and 
sound  for  he  was  very  tired,  and  got  up  as 
fresH  as  a  butterfly  in  the  morning,  and  when 


Giant  of  Band  Beggars'  Hall   271 

they  had  eaten  a  good  breakfast  of  the  other 
half  of  the  rat  the  Giant  asked  Jack  where  was 
he  going. 

"Well,"  sez  Jack,  sez  he,  "I  might  tell  you 
how  far  I  come,  but  I  can't  tell  you  how  far  I 
am  going,"  and  he  ups  and  he  tells  this  Giant 
the  whole  story  too. 

"Well,"  sez  the  Giant,  sez  he,  "it's  bad 
enough,  but  I'll  do  all  I  can  to  help  you.  I 
heard  tell  of  the  Giant  of  the  Band-beggars' 
Hall,  and  that's  all  I  know  about  him;  but  I 
have  command  over  half  the  birds  of  the  air, 
and  it's  likely  some  of  them  may  know  some- 
thing about  him,  and  if  they  do  I'll  soon  find 
out." 

So  he  took  out  a  little  whistle  and  blew  it, 
and  in  a  minute  the  sky  commenced  to  darken 
with  great  flocks  of  birds  flying  from  all  cor- 
ners, and  they  all  gathered  round  the  Giant's 
castle.  Then  the  Giant,  he  put  the  question  to 
them,  if  any  of  them  in  their  travels  had  come 
across  the  Giant  of  the  Band-beggars'  Hall, 

*'  The  Giant  of  Band-beggars'  Hall, 
The  greatest  Giant  over  them  all.  '* 

But  none  of  them  had  ever  come  across  him. 


2/2  In  Chimney  Corners 

They  had  heard  tell  of  him,  they  said,  but  that 
was  all. 

"Well,  it's  bad  enough,"  sez  the  Giant  to  Jack, 
"but  there's  one  other  remedy  yet.  I'll  lend 
you  a  pair  of  nine-league  boots;  and  I  have  a 
brother  lives  a  day's  journey  from  here,  by 
them,  who  has  command  over  all  the  birds  of 
the  air,  and  maybe  he'll  be  able  to  help  you." 

So  off  Jack  set  in  the  nine-league  boots,  and 
late  that  night  he  reached  the  third  Giant's 
house.  When  he  went  in,  he  saw  the  Giant 
sitting  by  the  fire,  and  he  got  up  and  welcomed 
Jade. 

"You're  welcome,  Jack,"  sez  he,  "the  King 
of  Ireland's  son,  for  I  haven't  seen  the  face  of  a 
Christian  for  the  last  nine  hundred  years.  You 
slept  at  my  brother's  house  last  night." 

Then  he  sat  Jack  down  by  the  fire,  and  reach- 
ing up  the  chimney  he  took  down  a  rat  that  was 
hanging  in  the  smoke,  and  roasting  it  on  the 
firCj  himself  and  Jack  made  a  hearty  supper  of 
it.  And  they  went  to  bed,  each  of  them  lying 
on  a  harrow,  with  a  goat-skin  over  them  and 
one  under  them.  And  Jack  slept  well  and 
sound,  and  got  up  in  the  morning  as  fresh  as  a 


Giant  of  Band  Beggars'  Hall    273 

butterfly.  And  after  they  had  made  a  good 
breakfast  on  another  rat,  sez  the  Giant,  sez 
he, — 

"Jack,  may  I  ask  you  how  far  you  intend 
going?" 

"Well,"  sez  Jack,  sez  he,  "I  may  tell  you  how 
far  I  come,  but  as  to  how  far  I'm  going  it*s 
more  nor  I  could  tell." 

So  he  starts  and  he  tells  the  Giant  the  whole 
story,  and  he  then  asked  him  if  he  could  give 
him  any  information  as  to  where  the  Giant  of 
the  Band-beggars'  Hall  lived? 

"Well,  no,"  sez  the  Giant,  sez  he,  "I  heard  tell 
of  the  Giant  of  the  Band-beggars'  Hall,  but  that 
was  all.  But  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  sez  the 
Giant.  "I  have  command  of  all  the  birds  of 
the  air,  and  I'll  call  them  together  to  see  if  they 
would  know  anything  about  him." 

So  the  Giant  blew  a  whistle,  and  in  a  minute 

the  sky  was  darkened  by  all  the  birds  of  the  air 

gathering    together    from    all    corners.     And 

when  they  were  all  gathered  over  the  castle  the 

Giant  put  it  to  them — Did  any  of  them  know 

anything  of 

**  The  Giant  of  the  Band-beggars'  Hall, 
The  greatest  Giant  over  them  all." 


2/4  I^  Chimney  Corners 

But,  lo  and  behold  ye,  not  one  of  them  knew  a 
thing  about  him;  they  had  heard  tell  of  him, 
they  said,  but  none  of  them  ever  reached  to 
where  he  lived. 

Poor  Jack  got  into  bad  heart  at  this  intelli- 
gence. 

"What  will  I  do  now,"  sez  Jack,  sez  he,  to  the 
Giant,  "for  I'm  done  now,  out  and  out?" 

"I  don't  know.  Jack,"  sez  the  Giant.  "But 
hold,"  sez  he,  "on  second  thoughts  there's  one 
eagle  that  isn't  here.  He  flies  everywhere 
over  the  whole  known  world,  and  only  comes 
here  to  see  me  once  in  seven  years,  and  I'm  ex- 
pecting him  to-day,  for  it's  just  seven  years 
this  day  since  he  was  with  me  before.  Wait  till 
we  see,  when  he  comes,  if  he  has  any  tidings  of 
him ;  and  if  he  hasn't  I  don't  know  what  you'll 
do." 

And  sure  enough,  that  very  evening  they  saw 
the  monstrous  big  eagle — the  like  of  it,  for  size, 
Jack  never  saw  before — coming  in  a  thunder- 
cloud, darkening  the  very  sky  with  its  wings; 
and  when  the  Giant  saw  this,  sez  he, — 

"Now,  Jack,"  sez  he,  "it  will  not  do  to  let  you 
be  seen  by  the  eagle,  for  he  would  eat  any 


Giant  of  Band  Beggars'  Hall    275 

human  being  he  would  see,  especially  now, 
when  he  is  coming  home  ravenous  after  his  big 
fly." 

So  he  sewed  Jack  up  in  a  big  leathern  bag, 
and  hung  him  by  the  side  of  the  chimney.  And 
as  soon  as  the  eagle  had  come,  the  Giant  wel- 
comed him  and  asked  him  if  there  was  anynews. 

"No,"  sez  the  eagle  very  sharp,  "where  would 
I  get  news?  I'm  dead  with  hunger,"  sez  he; 
"and  get  me  something  to  eat  at  once.  It  will 
be  better  for  me  than  gossiping  news  with  you." 

So  the  Giant  went  and  fetched  in  a  bullock 
and  twelve  lambs;  and  the  eagle  fell  to  at  once 
and  ate  them,  bones  and  all ;  and  he  then  put  his 
head  into  his  wings  and  went  asleep  at  once. 
And  the  Giant  went  to  bed,  too ;  and  Jack  was 
still  in  the  leathern  bag,  listening  to  and  watch- 
ing all  that  was  going  on.  It  was  late  the  next 
morning  when  the  eagle  awoke  after  his  big 
feed.  When  he  did  he  called  for  breakfast,  and 
the  Giant  fetched  him  in  another  bullock  and 
twelve  lambs,  and  he  ate  these  up  quickly, 
bones  and  all;  and  when  he  had  finished  he 
stroked  down  his  breast  with  his  beak,  and 
flapped  his  wings  two  or  three  times. 


276  In  Chimney  Corners 

"Now,"  sez  he,  "Fm  myself  again." 

"Do  ye  know,"  sez  the  Giant,  sez  he  to  him, 
"do  ye  know,  or  have  ye  met  in  all  your  travels, 
the  Giant  of  the  Band-beggars'  Hall?" 

"What  would  I  know  about  him?"  sez  the 
eagle.  Then,  sez  he,  "I  was  there  once,  but  I'll 
never  go  there  again,  for  it's  away  out  of  the 
world  entirely." 

"Well,"  sez  the  Giant,  "he  was  here  lately, 
and  he  left  that  bag  to  be  sent  to  his  place,  and 
he  is  to  behead  me  if  I  don't  get  it  there." 

"Well,  I'll  not  take  it,"  sez  the  eagle. 

"Very  well,  then,"  sez  the  Giant,"  I  suppose 
I  must  wait  on  my  fate." 

At  last,  after  some  time,  the  eagle  sez,  sez 
he,— 

"Well,  you  know,  I'm  under  an  obligation  to 
you  and  your  family,  and  I  couldn't  refuse  you 
anything;  so,  I  suppose  I  must  take  it." 

So  the  Giant  took  the  bag  into  a  room;  to 
sew  a  burst  that  was  in  it,  he  told  the  eagle. 
Then  he  put  in  with  Jack  as  much  provisions 
as  would  last  him  for  a  twelve-month.  He  bid 
Jack  good-bye  and  wished  him  God-speed.  And 
Jack  heartily  thanked  him.     He  then  sewed  up 


Giant  of  Band  Beggars'  Hall   277 

the  bag  again  and  gave  it  to  the  eagle.  He 
took  it  up  and  started  away  on  his  flight,  and 
he  flew  on,  and  on,  and  on,  till  the  days  turned 
to  weeks,  and  the  weeks  to  months,  and  poor 
Jack  thought  they  would  never  reach  their  jour- 
ney's end.  But  at  length,  when  they  were 
nearly  a  year  out — though  it  seemed  to  Jack  to 
be  twenty  years  since  they  started — ^Jack  found 
the  eagle  slackening  in  his  flight,  and  coming 
down,  and  down,  and  down,  lower  and  lower, 
till  at  length  they  touched  ground,  and  Jack 
cut  a  little  hole  in  the  bag  to  look  out  of,  and 
there  he  saw  a  castle  far  greater  than  all  the 
castles  put  together  that  ever  he  had  seen  be- 
fore, and  out  of  it  there  comes  a  great  Giant, 
and  when  Jack  saw  him  he  didn't  know  whether 
to  be  glad  or  sorry,  for  it  was  no  other  nor 

"  The  Giant  of  the  Band-beggars'  Hall, 
The  greatest  Giant  over  them  all." 

"You're  welcome,"  sez  the  Giant  to  the  eagle. 
"It's  so  long  since  you  were  here  I  thought  I'd 
never  see  your  face  more." 

"It's  seldom  come  the  better,"  sez  the  eagle; 
"you'll  never  see  it  again  if  I  have  my  will. 
And,  indeed,"  sez  he,  "if  it  wasn't  for  this  bag 


2/8  In  Chlmnej  Corners 

I  was  sent  with  to  you,  you  wouldn't  see  me 
now.  There  it  is,"  sez  the  eagle,  ''and  good- 
bye." 

So  off  he  flew,  and  the  Giant  said  to  himself 
he  wondered  who  would  be  sending  a  bag  to 
him,  or  what  was  in  it.  So,  taking  out  a  big 
clasp-knife,  he  cut  open  the  bag,  and  out  my 
brave  Jack  steps,  and, — 

"How  do  ye  do,"  sez  Jack,  sez  he,  "the  Giant 
of  Band-beggars'  Hall,  the  greatest  Giant  over 
them  all?" 

Well,  the  Giant,  when  he  caught  a  glimpse 
of  Jack,  was  staggered  and  dumbfoundered. 

"Well,  Jack,"  sez  he,  at  length,  when  he  come 
to  himself,  "ye' re  a  most  wonderful  fellow. 
This  bangs  all  ever  I  knew,"  sez  he.  "I  surely 
thought  that  I  had  the  better  of  you ;  but  I  see 
you  were  too  clever  by  half  for  me.  And  I'll 
stand  to  my  contract,  for  you  deserve  to  have 
your  life  spared.  And  more  than  that,"  sez  he, 
"I  have  a  young  daughter  that  I  never  intended 
to  let  marry — for  I  couldn't  think  to  get  a  hus- 
band for  her  that  would  be  to  my  liking,  till  I 
fell  in  with  you — but  now  that  I  have  met  you 
and  seen  the  uncommon  clever  man  you  are  en- 


Giant  of  Band  Beggars'  Hall   279 

tirely,  you  can  have  her  if  she  takes  your  fancy, 
with  a  heart  and  a  half,  and  a  handsome  for- 
tune." 

Jack  said  nothing  to  this  till  he  would  see 
her,  for  he  had  a  fancy  that  no  matter  what  for- 
tune she  might  have — and  he  suspected  the  for- 
tune such  a  Giant  could  give  with  her  would  be 
no  miss — he  could  find  nicer  girls  in  Ireland. 
But,  och,  when  he  saw  the  very  first  sight 
of  her,  the  beauties  of  Ireland  all  flew  out  of  his 
head,  and  he  was  head  and  ears  in  love  with  her 
at  once,  for  the  like  of  her  for  pure  downright 
loveliness  he  never  before  laid  his  two  eyes  on. 
And  when  her  father  asked  her  what  she 
thought  of  Jack,  she  couldn't  contain  herself, 
she  was  that  much  in  love  with  him.  So  the 
thing  was  settled  up  at  once,  for  Jack  was  think- 
ing of  his  poor  father  and  mother  grieving  for 
him  at  home,  and  couldn't  delay.  Then  the 
Giant  of  the  Band-beggars'  Hall  counted  out 
to  Jack,  as  a  fortune  with  the  beauty,  a  sword 
that  the  man  who  fought  with  it  couldn't  be 
beaten,  and  a  loaf  of  bread  that  would  never 
grow  less  no  matter  how  much  was  cut  off  it, 
and  a  flask  of  whisky  that  would  never  be  emp- 


^8o  In  Chimney  Corners 

tied  no  matter  how  much  was  drunk  from  it, 
and  a  purse  that  would  always  be  full  no  mat- 
ter how  much  was  taken  out  of  it.  He  then 
gave  them  two  wishing-caps  that  they  had  only 
to  put  them  on  their  heads  and  wish  to  be 
any  place,  and  they  would  be  there.  So  they 
took  the  Giant's  blessing,  and  putting  their  caps 
on  their  heads,  wished  to  be  at  the  oldest  of  the 
three  brother  Giant's  house  that  helped  Jack; 
and  when  they  come  there  Jack  gave  him  the 
sword,  for  he  said  he  had  no  use  for  it,  seeing 
there  wasn't  a  man  in  Ireland  he  was  afraid  of. 
They  then  put  on  their  caps  and  wished  to  be 
at  the  next  Giant's ;  and  when  they  come  there, 
Jack  gave  him  the  loaf,  for  he  said  Ireland 
never  yet  knew  want.  Then,  they  put  on  the 
caps  again,  and  wished  to  be  at  the  first  Giant's 
hbuse  that  Jack  fell  in  with,  and  when  they 
came  there,  Jack  gave  him  the  flask  of  whiskey, 
for,  he  said,  the  rivers  in  Ireland  flowed  with  it. 
He  kept  the  purse  for  himself,  saying  that  he 
could  do  good  with  it.  They  then  put  on  their 
caps,  and  wished  to  be  home  in  the  King's  Cas- 
tle in  Ireland;  and  home  they  were  at  once. 
And  that  was  the  reception  was  for  them !    And 


Giant  of  Band  Beggars'  Hall    281 

there  was  the  joy  and  the  rejoicing!  And  all  the 
country  was  asked  in  to  the  wedding.  And  such 
a  spread  of  eating  and  drinking,  and  carousing, 
lasting  for  nine  days,  was  never  known  in  Ire- 
land afore!  But  Jack  first  went  on  the  bridge, 
and  hooked  the  trout  that  put  its  tail  to  its  nose, 
and  winked  its  eye  about  at  him,  and  he  stuck 
that  trout  against  the  wall  with  a  corker  pin 
through  its  body  for  the  nine  days  the  feast 
lasted,  till  it  saw  all  the  rejoicement,  and  wrig- 
gled and  twisted,  and  heartily  repented  having 
ever  been  unrespectful  to  Jack.  From  that  day 
forward  Jack  fished  to  his  heart's  content  off 
the  bridge,  and  he  caught  no  end  of  the  trouts 
for  they  couldn't  trick  him  any  longer,  and  none 
of  them  ever  afterwards  wagged  their  tails  out 
of  the  water  at  Jack,  and  himself  and  his  beau- 
tiful wife  lived  happy  ever  after. 


^^^^W 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 
GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


mnwiTBAT    I.TRRARY 


RET 

This 


ONE  MONTH  USE 

PLEASE  RETURN  TO  DESK 
FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

EDUCATION-PSYCHOLOGY 
LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 
on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 


ED 

the 


1-month  loans  may  be  renewed  by  calling  642-4209 
Renewals  and  recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior       1 974 
to  due  date.  'f^n 

ALL  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  RECALL  7  DAYS    ^^ 
AFTER  DATE  CHECKED  OUT. 

AM 


APR  19  1976 


■+W 


Jxli 


^  ^^  lyQi 


APR  2    SEMSTERLOAN 

m 

DEC 


m  2  t)  19B7 


0}\D  {CPT  -rr^   ncPAl  | 


<t.^t 


m      JUN  11 1987-1^ 

EOUC-PSYCH.  LIB 


LD  21-1 


m 


'^  i  «j  200Q 


-2  PM 


1974 

tl-2P!V! 


PM 


LD  21A-30w-5,'75 
(S5877L) 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


'VVs 


lllMli 

CD3QSflSMD7 


\  r. 


,.<*,'.  ^   ;,•,«>- 


'  ;v/.o.    •^-r.-' 


37223 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  LIBRARY 


